A Ray of Light Peeks Through Dark Despair

Writing a poem for a girl can be a simple task… or a laborious task, depending on your state of mind. Really. A hundred million songs swirl about every time I think of her. Don’t believe me?

Something, You Are So Beautiful, The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, Every Time I Think of You, Let’s Stay Together, Just the Way You Are (Billy Joel or Bruno Mars), Wonder Wall, Wishing You Were Here, and on and on it goes. I know, old guy list, but I still cry as I picture her and how it all slipped through my fingers.

I’ll let you in on a secret. I am not in high school, and she is not a random pretty girl who does not know I exist.  Believe me. I had my fill of that. More on that later.

I need her to know the extent of how much I think about her. And some of those songs fit the bill just so right. But I don’t want to sound like a cliché and be that guy. I want to bring about some originality, right? I mean, it’s been so long. I don’t know. It might make me weird. Maybe creepy. Maybe it makes me pathetic. Maybe?

Maybe a poem that will say exactly what I want to say. Something that will make an impact, no matter what. The only problem is I don’t know anything about writing poems. Then what is one to do, and how can one understand how to write poetry for a girl like her?

Not everyone is a born poet, and not everyone has the sensibilities to pen down a poem effortlessly.

I mean, have you ever read Shakespeare? Elizabeth Browning Barrett? John Keats? Emily Dickenson? Walt Whitman? William Butler Yeats? Robert Frost? Maya Angelou? Their works are encapsulated in verse, a depth and level of human emotion that is not easily discerned by the eye but felt and nurtured in the heart.

How do you compete with that genius?

It’s the same with songwriters. Did you ever study the words (notice I did not say lyrics) of Billy Joel? Bruce Springsteen? John Lennon? Paul Simon? Joni Mitchell? Neil Young? Sam Cook? Curtis Mayfield? The list is endless. Bob Dylan? Smokey Robinson? James Taylor? Jay Z? Stevie Nicks? Tom Waite (who knew he wrote Jersey Girl?). The words matter as much as the melody. Although, I must admit that I liked songs strictly because of the melody when growing up.

So, now what?

It wasn’t until the seventh grade, when Miss Abrams had the lyrics on the blackboard (yes, I said blackboard) behind her, to The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel, that I learned a song was poetry with music. She said it was a poem about the inability of people to communicate with each other, not particularly intentionally but especially emotionally, so what you see around you are people unable to love each other.

Pretty deep, huh?

Okay, seventh grade was a few years ago, so maybe it wasn’t exactly those words, but it was pretty close.

But no doubt used correctly, this work of art can be appealing. Some might never have tried this art and might find that writing poetry comes effortlessly to them when they write a poem, while others might be stuck for ages.

Believe it or not, there are ways in which all of us can learn how to write a love poem. It’s just that one might never have given this whole literary aspect a thought or thought of the elements that go into making a poem if not for that girl.

Money and thoughtfulness can buy chocolate and roses, but a romantic poem comes from the heart. Writing a romantic poem for a girl shows effort and courage- you are baring your soul to her through poetry.

So, if you have read any of my previous essays, you might understand that I am fascinated with this woman. Now, you could say that this may not be the direction one newly single man should take. I mean, I’ve been divorced for three years and have not spoken with Pam in over three years.

I have not seen her unless you count the few times I have looked at her Facebook pictures. But that leads back to creepy.

Why?

And then, of course, there come the burning questions of why I broke up with her in the first place and why, so many years later, I am thinking of her. And why in heaven’s name would she even give me the time of day, unless it was, of course, to have dinner and chat and bring our friendship up to date, which is what we were for such a long period of time. Friends. Terribly close, but friends.

Then came that day, ten years of friendship and six months after moving to Florida. She came for a quick visit. Not to see me. I was just the layover—the conduit to the next day when she had plans down in the Keys. Two of my friends unknowingly cornered her at the local saloon and explained my feelings.

We spoke later that night and began dating the following week. It was everything I had hoped. It was fun. It was comfortable. It was easy. The beautiful girl. Walking with me. But as I said, you know all this if you have read my previous essays.

Depression + Paranoia = Pain

So, back to the present. After leaving the nightmare that was my marriage, there was collateral damage. The ex-narc ignoring multiple court orders, allowing me to spend time with my sons, led to some severe depression.

And when in that state, the world looks, feels, and is understood completely differently than before and after the episode. During a major depressive episode, the world can literally seem like a dark place. What was beautiful may look ugly, flat, or even sinister. The depressed person may believe loved ones, even their children, are better off without them. Nothing seems comforting, pleasurable, or worth living for. There is no apparent hope for things ever feeling better, and history is rewritten and experienced as confirmation that everything has always been miserable and always will be.

When this reality shift happens, it is difficult to remember or believe what seemed normal before the episode. What the person believes during the episode seems natural, and anything that conflicts with it is as unbelievable as a memory or message telling him that the sky is purple. For example, if the person cannot feel love for a spouse, and someone reminds the person who he or she used to feel that love, the person may firmly believe he or she had been pretending to himself and others—though at the time he felt it. The person cannot remember feeling the love and can’t feel it during the episode, thus concluding he never felt it. The exact process happens with happiness and pleasure. Attempts to tell the person he used to be happy and will feel satisfied again can cause the person to feel more misunderstood and isolated because he is convinced it is invalid.

But wait, there’s more.

Let me go further. Even if nothing was wrong before the episode, everything seems wrong when it descends. Suddenly, no one seems loving or lovable. Everything is irritating. Work is boring and unbearable. Any activity requires more effort as if every movement requires displacing quicksand. The challenge feels overwhelming. What was sad feels unbearable; what felt joyful feels pleasureless—or, at best, a fleeting drop of pleasure in an ocean of pain.

Major depression feels like intense pain that cannot be identified in any body part. The most (normally) pleasant and comforting touch can feel painful to the point of tears. People seem far away—on the other side of a glass bubble. No one seems to understand or care, and people seem insincere. Depression is utterly isolating.

There is a terrible shame about the actions depression dictates, such as not accomplishing anything or snapping at people. Everything seems meaningless, including previous accomplishments and what had given life meaning. Anything that has given the person a sense of value or self-esteem vanishes. These assets or accomplishments no longer matter, seem genuine, or are overshadowed by negative self-images. Anything that ever caused the person to feel shame, guilt, or regret grows to take up most of his or her psychic space. That and being in this state cause the person to feel irredeemably unlovable and sure everyone has abandoned or will abandon him.

It isn’t easy to describe all of this in a way that someone who has never experienced it can make sense of it. I cannot emphasize enough that when this happens, what I am describing is absolutely the depressed person’s reality. When people try to get the person to look on the bright side, be grateful, change their thoughts, meditate, or minimize or try to disprove the person’s reality, they are doubtful to succeed. Instead, they and the depressed person will likely feel frustrated and alienated.

Now, let us mix in the paranoia.

No one knows precisely what causes paranoia. There are many theories, and different people will explain their experiences differently. It is likely to be a combination of things.

Researchers have identified some general risk factors.  These are things that could make paranoid thoughts more likely:

• Having confusing or unsettling experiences or feelings that you cannot easily explain.
• How you feel–if you are anxious or worried or have low self-esteem, expect others to criticize or reject you.
• How you think–if you tend to conclude quickly, believe things intensely, and do not readily change your mind.
• If you are isolated.
• If you have experienced trauma in the past.

Oy vey. I lived the research. All they needed to do was talk to me.

This is a lot to put on the shoulders of this woman, who I have thought about since breaking up with her, don’t you think?

A little more research shows there are specific issues that may play a role in causing paranoid thoughts. Sometimes this could be because they make you more likely to experience the risk factors above. Rumor has it that paranoia is the bastard child of fear and good sense. Here are some examples of things that may contribute to those paranoid thoughts:

• Life experiences. You are more likely to experience paranoid thoughts in vulnerable, isolated, or stressful situations that could make you feel negative about yourself. If you are bullied at work or your home is burgled, this could give you suspicious thoughts, which could develop into paranoia. To be clear, I WAS BULLIED AT HOME!
• Experiences in your childhood may lead you to believe that the world is unsafe or make you mistrustful and suspicious of others. These experiences may also affect your self-esteem and thinking as an adult. 
• External environment. Some research has suggested that paranoid thoughts are more common if you live in an urban environment or community where you feel isolated rather than connected to the people around you. Media reports of crime, terrorism, and violence may also play a role in triggering paranoid feelings.
• Mental health. If you experience anxiety, depression, or low self-esteem, you may be more likely to experience paranoid thoughts – or be more upset by them. This may be because you are more on edge, worry a lot, or are more likely to interpret things negatively. Paranoia is a symptom of mental health problems. Many people experience paranoid delusions as part of an episode of psychosis.

Okay, enough. This started light and breezy. I wanted to write a poem for a beautiful woman I used to know and want to get to know again. I would love to share with her where I have been, and I would love to hear about her life.

But when I was there, in the depression, when I was grappling with all this tumult, there was this ray of light peeking through my dark despair. It was her, late at night. Staring into the darkness, there she was. Smiling. Reaching out and not trying to make it better. Succeeding.

It was still dark, and everything hurt, and I felt that nobody cared if I lived or died, but she was there. Smiling. Gently touching. Doesn’t she deserve a poem? Doesn’t she deserve a place on a painful site that few people know, which she will most likely never read?

I say yes.

So, I now researched how to write a poem and different types of poems.

• Acrostic.
• Haiku.
• Ode. …
• Sonnet. …
• Pantoum. …
• Villanelle. …
• Ekphrastic. …
• Ghazal.

I mean, are there more? Oh, lord, yes. But when you get to that point where you cannot pronounce them, it’s enough. A little more research and a sonnet was my winner.

What, you ask, is a sonnet? In English, a poem of fourteen lines using several formal rhyme schemes typically has ten syllables per line.

How tough can that be?

And why am I even doing this? Let’s do the logistics. I fly to Jersey from South Florida. We go to dinner. She catches me up in a few minutes with her remarkable life and how she enjoys her single world. She looks fantastic. Somehow, time has not touched her. She still looks elegant, stunning, and glamorous.

Me? What was it my mother used to say? “Steven, you look like such a schlep.”

Oh, and of course, there’s the story about everything that has happened in my little world since I broke up.

Listening to her tell her story, the angels are singing, and we sip a glass of wine.

I tell her about me, and four bottles of tequila are taking us halfway through my stupid and sordid life.

We get to the desert and maybe split a tiramisu. Maybe enjoy an espresso. And that’s it.

“Let’s talk soon,” she says.

Translation: “My life’s good now and I really don’t need someone like YOU messing it up.”

I fly back to South Florida more miserable than before the depression began.

The dorkiest guy to ever roam the halls of Hewlett High School. Three girls spoke with me in the three years I roamed those halls and did not find me disgusting. But let’s be realistic. I was the school newspaper editor, and they had to ask me about their assignments for each issue.

Boy, that’s the spirit. Can you imagine if Benjamin Franklin, the Wright Brothers, Steve Jobs, or Bill Gates had my determination?

I would sit in the dark, couldn’t call or e-mail her, and I would never have been able to see her because I could not fly to Jersey.

I thought about all of that and said the hell with everything. What if one day I reach out to her? What if, one day, she connects with my web page? What if, one day, she reads this work of art? What if my darkness turns to sunlight one day, and people are happy for me? Better yet, happy for us because, as I knew all along, I was the only guy for her.

This woman, who embodies charisma, would still find me engaging. Yes, she has it. Charisma is the unique property of someone who possesses charm and is irresistibly attractive to others. She has highly developed communication and persuasion skills that she uses to influence and excite other people.

Yikes! Enough Already. All of that to get to this?

Pam, this sonnet is for you. Please remember that the original title was Sonnet for Pam #100 because the first ninety-nine were just awful, but a ray of hope on the hundredth attempt beat the negativity. Besides, after one hundred attempts, they all sound the same. So, here we go. Enjoy.

A Ray of Light Peeks Through Dark Despair

It’s late at night when I’m sad, and I cry,

All alone with the darkness and the sky,

Heaven is deaf to my useless and wasted state,

I look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing I was richer in hope,

Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,

Envious of that man’s family and his feast,

But what is it I most enjoy contented least,

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Happily, I think of Pam and then my state,

Like the sun rising,

From the earth, the angels sing up to heaven’s gate,

For my sweet love, I remember such wealth brings

That then I need not change my state with kings.