(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
