(Melancholia, Evward Munch,  1894)

Sanctity of Confinement

A listening ear, a shoulder to cry on

The wall against the danger, the protection of what you fear

Understanding what you think, knowing what you feel

Secrets I hold; burdens I carry

My judgments suspended in the in-between

(Between the dogma of man and the compassion of God)

Steady on water, keeping rhythm with the waves

Controlled and trained, faltering is no construct

Stoicism is my virtue, obedience is my duty

 

But what happens when there are fissures in the granite?

Depths exposed

The silence thundering – screaming in my head

(No one dares to look; no one hears my panicked heart)

It’s the imprisonment of my internal self

Survival is more than fear, it is predestined

What doesn’t kill me, I will mend

And I am still here, solid underneath your feet