The brief poem below was written in the Johns Hopkins mood disorders unit in 2018 while recovering from a life-threatening medication mishap - two bouts of serotonin syndrome followed by abrupt withdrawal of an SSRI which I'd taken long term. Although my body, spirit and mind felt alternately lifeless & out of control for those 10 months of illness, some small part of my self or mind - which I cannot locate precisely - remained sufficiently functional to focus sometimes on reading and, very occasionally, on brief writings. How strange it was to write and not feel inspiration in my body, but know it was important to activate that zone of my mind that still functioned occasionally. The neurological memory of decades of creating and taking in creative things persisted inside me in an almost shadow form, a shadow form that actually worked, it turns out. And what remained of my rational mind recognized these brief episodes of functionality as a sign of a possible future for me outside of the hell gates of ultra-panic and depression.
A woman 103 years old
From Barbados
They memorialize
In the steady rain drop
Fall of snare drum rimshots
And a tuba bassline
That struts
A 4-note step
And modulates up
A queen is a saxophone
Story proclaimed atop
The drum
& tuba march
SAX SAYS:
“Ocean”
"Shore" ”Walk”
"Speak” "Breathe”
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