A Despairing Mood

by toni long

 
 

 

 

 

     
 

Reading Virginia Woolf
causes a certain depression
that's often associated
with self-pity.

A depression that grows
from not being able to fit
into her world
or your own.
A depression that lags
when your corn flakes are soggy
the milk warm
and your soaps are being interrupted
by Peter Jennings.

This depression stifles
when you want to write a poem
but the words won't sing.
This depression screams
when you want to ask for help
but your pride blocks the way.

A depression that enrages
as you lie on your bed
contemplating the world
knowing others lie on the sidewalk
worrying about their next meal.
A depression that cries
and won't let you sleep
because your mind keeps chanting
that you are depressed.

This depression represses
because you are conditionally celibate
as long as masturbation doesn't count.
This depression registers
a total realization
that even with a degree from Stanford
you'll always be followed in Macy's.

A depression that binds
when the judicial system repeats
that only whites can be insane...
blacks, of course, are always enraged
but psychiatrists don't know why.

This depression numbs
when men call you sexist
and whites call you racist.
This depression chills
when you and your lover
reach the shouting stage
and Joan Armatrading
doesn't have a solution.
It's a depression that starts
with anything, and ends with:
you are a black gay female
in a straight white man's world
and isn't that depressing enough?

This depression pains
when you wonder how long
your grandmother will have to sing
"We Shall Overcome"
before her God responds.
 
     

 

 

"A Despairing Mood" © 1996 by Toni Long
 
     
 

 Original Graphic © 1996 by Jim Davis-Rosenthal
 
     

 

 

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