I am a 65 year old woman living with schizophrenia.
My poetry is an expression of my inner self and my way of coping with difficult times and enjoying good times through my writing and artwork I have found a place for myself in this world.
Light gives me what it has to give.
Rain is falling beneath my feet.
The moon has dropped
From the skies at night.
The table by my bedside is alive-
Aa a small city, overpopulated.
A brush resting on my vanity
Appears to be on fire,
Burning away the midnight hours.
I feel heat emanating
From an open window-
I must say I am afraid.
I recall the day I cried
When the circus came to town-
Clowns did not amuse me.
I rode a broken horse on a creaky carousel.
Stars are pouring from the skies
Like fairy dust, afire.
I wonder how I got here
Entangled in this web.
I open my eyes
And let my spirit go astray,
As I collect the pieces
Of my shattered dreams.
I throw their remnants
Upon that table by my bedside
And watch the circus come alive.