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| Mary's beloved Mystic |
The Struggle at the End of Joy
China is prettier
when shattered pieces
assemble into something new,
when the morning sun
glints off these colorful creations
and I feel reborn -
that is until afternoon unquiets my mind
and I try outrunning my shadow,
horse and I gallop, hair flying,
until wind rips the scream from my lips,
shatters the mosaic inside my head,
and the only voice I hear is mine.
by Margaret Bednar, January 18, 2015
This poem is not about me. A wonderfully intelligent, artistically talented woman ended her life a few days ago. Mary suffered with bi-polar / manic-depression. Mystic gave her great joy and she wrote about her horse on her blog "Galloping Mind" Following is an article that ran in the O'Henry Magazine entitled "Gloriously Imperfect" A part of her life story and the images of her uniquely beautiful house begin on page 56.
My poem is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - In other words". This sliver of a depressing poem is what my mind keeps going to - the end of joy - the despair she felt these last few months. But she WAS so much more.
If only she had listened to and believed the voices of others.
RIP, Mary.
11 comments:
The first stanza is a poem all by itself. Sometimes, the only remedy is complete change... so sad her change was so drastic and final. May her soul find the rest and peace her mind was searching for.
You have so poignantly captured the mind of a troubled soul. May she now be at peace.
The shattered China is a brilliant metaphor - a sadness so deep when you cannot outrun the shadows any longer.
Your title is very intriguing. I am sure it must have been very hard for you to write about this tragedy, but I think you did a splendid job. I was riveted by every line, the mosaic image is strong throughout, and the photo you chose is perfect.
i am sorry for the loss of your friend.
This is incredibly beautiful, Margaret.
As others have said, the metaphor of the china speaks volumes, and it's by seeing the beauty in the shattered that we are able to continue--I know melancholy and despair have chemical links, but I also see them as the failure of imagination. When you can no longer imagine joy, then the world is a grim place indeed.
I am so sorry for your loss. Your poem speaks to her pain and despair.
What a sad & tragic story ~ I feel her loss & struggle ~
This is raw and brilliant. Important for people to read I think...puts a voice to the mysterious face of mental illness. Your image is beautiful and I'm so glad that she found joy in her horse...a beautiful bond.
Oh terribly sad--so sorry--thanks, Margaret. k.
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