Living With It

I live with manic depression
My constant companion
Reflecting my moods,
flexible in social situations
Always ready for conversations

At night, as I lie in fetal position,
it spoons my spine
It dances in the rain with me; it’s
my partner trolling homeless venues

People say my brain ain’t right
I say, “Wrong”
I see things wide awake they
cannot conjure in dreams
Hear music of another world while
their ears are stuck in this one

Feel the breeze blowing
through my soul, sweet and
filled with love.

If all that’s wrong, well,
like the song says,
I don’t wanna be “right”

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

‘Bipolar’ sounds like you’re either up or down. It can be that way, but I prefer the term manic depression, rooted in depression with frequent upswings in energy when left untreated. Yet here I am, with proper treatment, claiming the best part – that “other-mindedness” of which I often write. I feel God has blessed me (God can be quirky), and I hope my gratitude is reflected in this poem. For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ Open Link Monday.

Peace, Amy