A season of depression

My heart is composing a goodly matter; I speak of the verses which I have made concerning the King; my tongue is the pen of a ready writer.

Psalm 45:1 (KJV)

Dear reader:

Poetry therapy offers a gentle doorway into the emotions we often carry quietly — the ones that surface in pieces like D for Depression: Season of Depression. It invites us to use poetry not just as art, but as a companion in healing. Through reading, writing, and engaging with verse, we gain language for feelings that are often difficult to name. Poetry therapy doesn’t ask us to erase our pain or rush past it. Instead, it creates a safe space to sit with what hurts, to acknowledge it honestly, and to reach outward toward connection and possibility.

Reflective poetry plays a meaningful role in this process. It slows us down long enough to listen inward, to notice the subtle shifts of emotion, memory, and thought. When we write reflectively, we’re not performing, but we’re exploring. We’re shaping our inner world into words that help us understand ourselves more clearly. In this way, writing becomes a form of gentle externalization: the internal storm gains shape on the page, and with that shape comes clarity, grounding, and sometimes even hope.

Poetry therapy reminds us that healing doesn’t always come through answers. Sometimes it comes through expression and the courage to write what we feel and the grace to let those words guide us toward deeper understanding.

Someone—see me, reach me,

Lift this shroud, if only for a moment,

Let me feel the air again. –jjf’25

(Season of Depression)


Sinking


Time flies, or so they say;
But does it truly sweep me along?
The world spins wild, a relentless blur,
Yet here I stand, rooted, unmoved,
Trapped in a spiralling haze, sinking slowly,
Deeper, ever deeper, into despair’s embrace.
Like Alice, tumbling through the void,
Down, down the rabbit’s twisted trail,
My mind unravels, fogged, and lost in
A maze of shadows with no escape. 
I pause, teetering on the edge,
And collapse into a leaden sleep,
A transient refuge from the ache.
Only to wake to a relentless grey,
A shroud of clouds, thick and suffocating,
Draping my soul in endless nights.
I sigh—a breath too heavy to lift,
A whisper swallowed by the gloom.
Does time fly, heedless of my plea,
Or am I the one forsaken,
Left to drift in this muted cry:
‘Help me, someone, pull me free?’ 


 jjf' 2014

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Hope Resurfaces

I dipped my head beneath the water,
Chasing the hush of an end,
A stillness to cradle my unravelling soul.
Bubbles surged, a chaotic ascent,
Clouding my thoughts in their restless dance,

As an eerie calm slipped through my veins,
Enfolding me in its muted embrace,
A velvet shroud against the world’s roar.

Then a voice, tender yet unyielding,
Cut through the drowning quiet’s veil:
“Did you kindle the flame of your being?”

The question sank sharp, a blade of light,
Clearing the fog of my despair.
In the depths, a tremor woke within;

“No, no—what am I to my own existence?”
I cried out, and my voice lost to the flood,
Tears spilling, blending into the tide,
Warm against the cold that held me.

And there, amid the weight, a release of the Light and
Soft as a whisper, fleeting as a gasp,
Like the first shuddering breath
Pulled from the dark of a dive in the abyss—
Frail, yet pulsing with quiet hope.

(c) jjf 2014

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A Plea for Help

Session One:

Dear Therapist,

Give me more grace, I’m breaking apart,
It’s okay; I’ll move slowly in this endless struggle.
Time escapes me, slipping through shaky fingers, gone forever,
Listen, listen, listen to me, my voice barely holds,
I’m not selfish; demons slam against my mind’s fragile neurons,
Friendships unravel, and their echoes haunt me, empty and cold.

Love, love, love me, don’t turn away from this jagged need,
I won’t let my spirit die, clinging to the pill I swallow,
Family fades into the distance, faces I knew blur and vanish,
The sun is there for everyone, but shadows still chase me.

Embrace, embrace, embrace me, my dear Therapist,
Good night—I’m drained; let the dark take me for a while.

Session two:

Give me more space; these walls press too close,
It’s okay; I’ll stumble forward, lost in this heavy dusk.
Years slip away, stolen, leaving nothing to hold onto,
listen, listen, listen to me, I shout into the void,
I’m not selfish; the emptiness gnaws at connections I can’t repair,
Sisters and brothers scattered, their absence a quiet wound.

Love, love, love me, don’t leave this cracked soul alone,
I mutter a prayer, a thread to pull me through the haze,
The clouds hang low, thick with everything I’ve let go,
I ache for light to cut through the weight of what’s gone.

Embrace, embrace, embrace me, my dear Therapist,
Good night—my eyes burned with tears, and I sank into silence.

jjf'21

Thanks for reading 💛jjf