melancholy

In the last few days several of my blog friends have written about depression (here and here). Clinical depression is something from which I’ve never suffered. But if the description of those who have is to be believed, it is horrible and not to be wished on anyone.

American poet Jane Kenyon had bouts of depression her whole life. In the suite of poems "Having it Out with Melancholy" she explores its many faces:

1 FROM THE NURSERY

When I was born, you waited
behind a pile of linen in the nursery,
and when we were alone, you lay down
on top of me, pressing
the bile of desolation into every pore....

to

3 SUGGESTION FROM A FRIEND

You wouldn't be so depressed
if you really believed in God.

on to:

9 WOOD THRUSH

High on Nardil and June light
I wake at four,
waiting greedily for the first
note of the wood thrush. Easeful air
presses through the screen
with the wild, complex song
of the bird, and I am overcome

by ordinary contentment....

(read "Having it Out with Melancholy"...)