How Low Can You Go?

The low ebb is descending

A rhyme from a pop song

Reverberates the background

It’s melodic chant daring her lower


Tiredness all around    no respite

Sleep depravation increase the tome

No good news    war    sickness

No puppy dog tales   only poverty

Take it to the chorus    litany of woe


Shutters coming down

Closing up shop

Humanity good bye

Sign off   gone for a while

I’ll be in bed


Rhythmic clapping

Stomping feet

C’mon Eileen

Darkness surrounds

No white light

Judgement descends       how long to stay

Am I ready to depart or  interlude

Difficult decision in trance like mode

Get it wrong       county homeward bound

Heaven can wait let’s breathe      in


This was written some time ago, based on the song “how low can you go” which in turn was about that game where you shimmy under a stick, going lower and lower. I thought it interesting to have such an upbeat tune in my head whilst writing about my friend’s depression. She would descend into the pit for weeks, not opening even her curtains, not getting dressed or washed, eating very little and scared of being cast into the local mental institution. She always thought she would die in such a place so would drag herself up out of the pit before the “sheriff” turned up at her door. She may well have been a prophetess, as she did indeed die in the county home of natural causes at an appropriate age, but what she was most scared of, of entering the home, when the time came for her to pack she actually looked quite excited about the prospect. She was a lovely quiet, shy soul and I miss her sometimes when the weather turns grey and I wonder “How low could I go?”

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