witti's Journal

I wrote this poem on the 14th March 1994.  I look back on it often.  1994 was the year I realised I suffered from depression and I used to do a lot of writing.  A couple of years after this I had a breakdown, was medicated and wrote no more.  I didn't realise then, but the meds seemed to stifle any attempt at expressing myself.

When

When will it all end?

When will the future arrive?

How can I live on,

Without hope, without drive?

When will it be now?

When will now be here?

When will the past be gone?

When will the future be near?

When will the singing be over?

When will the song be sung?

When will the young be old?

When will the old be young?

When will the future arrive?

When will it be forever-more?

When is the time, the time,

When when is one step through the door?

I spent my childhood wishing to be an adult.  I felt so powerless as a child.  Not only from being sexually abused by one of my older siblings but from being the youngest out of nine children in a family where "respect your eldest" was enforced but respect was not demonstrated by those who were older.  The phrase should have been, "obey your eldest" for I firmly believe that respect needs to be earnt not enforced.

witti