Poem: Depression by Thola Antamu

He sits in his cave, cold, alone and unable to stand up.

He can see the light.

At certain times of the day the sun shines in and warms his existence.

At certain times the sun shines in and cuddles him.

Most of the time his mind screams blinding noise.

Most of the time it is only himself he destroys.

But sometimes us.

Sometimes he hears us.

Sometimes he scares us.

Some of the time he can lift his arms,

Reach out, speak perfect sense,

Smile and light up the space for a while.

Not often.

Less now then back then.

Now his cave is all that he sees.

Without knowing why but selfishly.

He lives, waiting for what?

Death maybe.

It is unclear to me.

But he lives, alone,

In our home.

His cold cave.

Thola Antamu. 18 May 2016.

POET. PRINCESS. PERFORMER

Twitter: @tholaantamu

Blog: www.thegirlwhofoundpower.wordpress.com

Comments

Women, Marriage, Child Birth and The Blackmailing Older Generation in Ghana

S ome years back, in my late teens, I always told myself I’d get married before I was 23. The thought of being able to enjoy life with my companion in holy matrimony without being pressed (physically, psychologically, or biologically) for children was ideal. I wanted to travel the world. Know people. See places. For my partner and I to get our act together before creating and bringing life into this world. Maybe the motivation came from knowing my parents discovered each other and started life together quite early. My mother had me when she was barely 21. Three kids down the line, my dad is now in his late 40s, with my mom, a little behind. Definitely, the ‘young old couple’ thingy is attractive. But. I’m currently in my mid-20s. And unmarried. So many things replaced the desire for me to tie the knot before 23. I realized, somehow, that there was no rush. My priorities had shifted. There was education, a lot of growing up to do, and basically life! And there was also my r

Why must this be the first sentence uttered by men when you get pregnant?

“A woman can endure all; every pain, every hurt, every bruise, but not one that she causes herself.” I have decided to share this not because I want to tell my story, but because I want to heal even though that seems like too much to ask right now. I am not in the position to make demands. It is my only hope that someday, maybe, I will be able to forgive myself and move past this. A woman never understands motherhood until she becomes one , or shall I rephrase; a woman never understands motherhood until she experiences what it takes and means to be a mother. It isn’t just about bringing a child into this world; it is about bringing yourself into this world. You are tied by the breath of life to the child you bring forth. The joys of a mother are that; like the cactus plant she has faced death and triumphed with life and for as long as she lives she will never experience anything as encouraging and comforting as her child’s first clutch of her thumb. It is not o

When The Past Comes Looking For Me: Part 1

I walk into the shower of the hotel with Adele's new album playing in the background. The water is comforting, but why am I here when I'd just stood under another shower nozzle at my friend's house 3 hours ago? What is it that needs to be scrubbed off this time around? What dirt could I have possibly accumulated in such a short space of time? Maybe it is the hopeless cries of heartbreak I have had to endure over the past three days. This was my duty as the best friend; to comfort and bring solace to my grieving friend for her ended relationship of almost 3 years. I had never seen my friend like that, and I was there when she buried her father. My awkward self involuntarily went into shut down mode, clueless on how to help steer her back to being the jovial friend I enjoy. Was it the messy room, the unwashed dishes or the unmade bed I slept on all day? Where do I need the water to reach this time? Her boyfriend finally called and I am hopeful th

Sista Clinik

Search This Blog