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Writer's pictureTim Huber

Aporia

Shaky hands

light-headed man

writing poems

to meet their demands


Aporia


For healing

self-revealing

lines and quick rhymes

to say what they’re feeling


Aporia


But there’s a price

I think

to the things that he writes

It’s hidden

buried

in his mind, out of sight

yet vibrant

displayed

stretched out in the light


Aporia


The price is redemption

healing exemption

the hope to recover

from all that he’s suffered


Aporia


He can’t take the pills

he so often prescribes

he’d stop, drop his pencil

unsure what to write.


Aporia


His pain will reopen

he has to stay broken

so others can feel

and one day be healed.


Aporia


I wonder if he

permanently

holds onto It

because only It hears


Aporia


He knows It

and It knows him

solitary companions

in a white padded canyon


Aporia


 

First off, it's good to be back! I had a nice break from work for a few days and feel energized to keep writing. Now into the poem. 

This poem (for me) is pretty big and powerful. It covers some of the most difficult and complex aspects of depression/mental battles I've faced. If you're not familiar with the word Aporia, you should definitely look into it, it's pretty interesting. It does have a lot of uses, however, so my use for it might not match each of the ones you find. The one I chose basically means to ask something you know the answer to, thereby achieving nothing but continuing to go over the same problem. In other words, all talk but no action. At least, that's how I understand it.

Anyway, the character I formed (Aporia) is the embodiment of this. One of the tactics it's used against me is that I need to stay in a state of pain so that I can relate to other hurting people and reach out to them. It may sound silly, but it can be a pretty convincing argument (or excuse, maybe) for someone who has faced a bit of hell on earth. Sometimes I feel like I keep going in circles, bringing up old issues that I've already dealt with, or purposefully dipping into painful situations. It's like I've tricked myself into believing that those things are a part of my identity. I'll never fully understand the human mind (it's too scary for me to want to try) but I know that I don't have to be constantly suffering to relate to someone. 

Again, I understand that this may be a bit of a confusing and unrelatable poem for some of you, but I find it somewhat therapeutic. If the poem doesn't necessarily vibe with you, I hope you can at least enjoy the rhymes and work I put in. 

Keep an eye out for Aporia, it's never too far away.

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