Student Highlight: Poetry by Ariana Henton pt. 2
The following is a continuation of Ariana Henton’s poetry collection:
Jan 10, 2018
Let’s Call It Anything but Depression
I should probably write about something
— anything, really —
other than this. this. well,
I’m not really sure what to call it.
phase? episode? low?
I’m not really sure how to describe it.
glum? despondent? dragged down?
what’s another fancy word for feeling bummed out?
whatever this is, I know that it is the exact
opposite of good, of healthy. But then
why does it make me feel more alive
than any good day I have ever lived?
Why does it take days full of sob-soaked
pillow sheets and nothing but top-ramen and toast
to make me feel real, to make me feel human?
Jan 30, 2018
These days
have been soaked in
salt which leaks from
my eyes no matter
how tight I squeeze
them shut no matter
how many miles
my legs run
no matter how late
I stay awake, mind
running circles around
itself chasing thoughts
that begin and end with
my salty tears, chasing
could-haves and
should-have-beens,
running dizzying circles
until it can’t run anymore,
and I slip into the
half-sleep state that I
spend my nights in,
doused in dreams that
are not very dreamlike at all
but that are just more crowds
of people that make me feel
alone, dreams that are just
more salt and more tears
and more circles, more
dizzying spirals that begin
and end with my salty tears,
and I wake praying
for the end of these days.
Feb 14, 2018
I can’t concentrate
or relate any nebulous
phrases to today and so
I spit smoke instead
until the haze settles in and
the greens and greys of the
asphalt and of the pines
blur together leaving streaks
in my vision of memories
and moments yet to come.
The yellow center line
is rambling and winding;
asphalt takes slow wide
turns around hollowed out
riverbeds and everything here
is thick with the silence and
so full of blues and browns;
thick like soil in the ground and
so full of the absence of sound.
Jan 15, 2019
Contentedness and Complacency
Halfway into January and I’m feeling okay.
Alright, even healthy,
not tearing apart at the seams
reeling ever back from the brink,
but treading. Instead of drowning.
And I wonder what this means for February.
For March.
And I wonder what this means for my relationships.
For my writing.
Easier to write when I have no choice.
Not so easy to write when the days
are just okay,
alright, even healthy,
when the days roll easy instead of fight,
when my existence is light and I
forget what it means to have to remind myself to want to live.
Thank you again Ariana for sharing your vulnerability with us!
I strongly relate to your content and style. It describes precisely how I feel. I am not alone.