What Depression Feels Like

By Elizabeth Jennings

She left the room undusted, did not care
To hang a picture, even lay a book
On the small table. All her pain was there-
In absences. The furious window shook
With violent storms she had no power to share.

Her face was lined, her bones stood thinly out
She spoke, it’s true, but not as if it mattered;
She helped with washing-up and things like that.
Her face looked anguished when the china clattered.
Mostly she merely stared at us and sat…

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Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
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