Echoes

“Echoes” Free-Verse, July-August 2017

Your ghost follows me around,
haunting and taunting me.
I don’t know if I miss you,
or the me I was before you.

Through the window,
I catch a glimpse of you behind the trees—
a shadow of who you once were to me,
still frozen in time.

Trapped inside these walls
are lies I’ve tried to ignore,
bubbling up in the peeling paint,
all these years later.

Echoes of past conversations
bleed in my ears
while I scream over the noise
of what is now silent.

Living in parallels,
I guide the me I once was to escape
the darkness into safety and light,
though I once let you take it all.

-Brandi Easterling Collins

What does depression (and anxiety) look like?

Most commercials for antidepressants show people in despair, lying on a couch crying or dressed in baggy clothing with unkempt hair.

Is that what depression looks like? Yes. Sometimes.

But often, depression can look like a person who has their shit together. A career woman who gets things done. A soccer mom with perfect hair and perfect kids. A lawyer. A doctor. A musician. An artist. A movie star. A writer. Me.

Anxiety medication ads often depict a person having a panic attack, complete with hyperventilating, rapid heartbeat and sweating.

So that’s what anxiety looks like, right? Sure. Sometimes.

It also can look like standoffishness. Indifference. Disengagement. Irritability. Forgetfulness. Me.

Continue reading “What does depression (and anxiety) look like?”

A Walk In The Rain

“A Walk In The Rain” Free Verse Poetry, August 2016/March 2017

She went for a walk in the rain
With barely enough light to see
The mist baptizing her favorite path.

She couldn’t escape the pain
Without causing much more
So she retreated to her abandoned door.

Once inside, the walls entombed her
And trapped her as they moved,
Revealing the family she’d left behind.

Trapped within the rose-printed wallpaper,
She stood in silent perfection
In thorns that drew no blood.

She went for a walk in the rain
To clear her overwhelmed mind
From burdens drowning in her wrath.

She dropped to her knees and prayed
For forgiveness and solitude;
Watched her children while they played.

They never missed her,
Or knew the sacrifices she made.

-Brandi Easterling Collins