Home Coping Skills a poem that helps me
Report Post

The slam poetry scene in my state has been a veritable haven when I can actually get myself to attend an open mic/slam feature night. I hope this poem can help at least one person like it did for me.

Kait Rokowski – “A Good Day”
http://youtu.be/TjjaIwVxfTw (to see her recite it)

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.”

4 comments
0

Related posts

4 comments

LuckybombAbCan 7/15/2015 - 5:54 pm

Sounds like a great deal of the society we live in. To many sheep/followers and not enough leaders. To many people let the leaders that are in power, not just the governments but the CEOs and businesses also, run this planet and people into the ground. We live in a society of to many people with wants before covering their needs. When people get back to the basic fundamentals of life they will learn life will be so much easier and healthier not to mention people will socialize with their mouth and body once again instead of words(if you want to call all this short form people use words) on a device.

Chaucer 7/19/2015 - 9:47 am

This was beautiful to read. You know that? I liked it so much I actually risked reading some of it aloud to someone else. But they just gave me ‘that look’, you know. My favorite part starts with “depression is a good lover”. I know this was supposed to be happy and I just picked out the dark parts but the way you put it all reminds me that deep down I’m being selfish. The way I wallow and let my feelings be my whole world.. it may not be the happiest thing in the world, like you said, but it helps me at least try to feel differently. Anyway you’re the reason I joined this site.. I just wanted to say that.

Dorothy Gale 7/20/2015 - 7:57 pm

Pick out whatever parts you like and relate to best <3 when I first heard it, I could only relate to the dark bits…hers was like a voice from the other side.

Dorothy Gale 7/20/2015 - 7:58 pm

Also, that is flattering! Thank you.

Leave a Comment