My dear, dear friend,
I know the hell you’re in,
the black hole
unfathomable,
that weight upon
your tired, tired mind.
Times were, I too
couldn’t summon the
strength to climb
the greasy pole to
give me light of day.
I am here to reach
your fingertips
so light may caress
your care-worn brow.
Reach out to me, my
dear, dear friend, take
my worn hand
and heave
one more time.
I love you, we are
inseparable
from now on,
for I love you as you are
- not for what you were
before depression
stormed your soul.
You don’t need words
for me, just your hand.
I want to hug you
in your blackest hour
so that, hand outstretched,
you may once more
stand tall
in morning’s light,
and smile
- as only you can smile.