She rests inside the shoebox,
Just a tiny doll with perfect hair.
The pinafore she wears, pristine.
The lid is on, it's dark in there
But it is also quiet and it's safe
From whom they choose to think she is.
She's in a room with black-out drapes,
Her fetal curl unseen beneath the sheets.
The dryer buzzes in the distance, baby cries.
Why won't they let her sleep in peace?
The darkness used to frighten her
But she is drawn now to it as a lover,
As if disappearing can erase the pain
Of all the plans and expectations of her.
And there are days when darkness lives.
Into her heart and cells and pores it seeps.
None will miss her if her lover takes her
Back to hell to finally set her free.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2022
Note: This was an exercise, the kernel of a thought set down on paper (so to speak) but depression is not something to play around with. Hopelessness and despair are no way to live. There may be a chemical imbalance to be treated with medicine. Sometimes, simply choosing to express gratitude, developing it as a habit, can turn things around. But there is help available -- always. As a Christian, I believe that prayer is an effective first step.
