This oppressive heaviness weighs me down,
Pressing me into silence again and again.
Words fail me—mind, tongue, and pen—
Until I feel like a bird whose wings
Are bound tightly against its body,
Unable even to struggle for flight,
Much less fly.
Somehow I must… must… MUST…
Force myself to words again—
Say what I feel, when I let myself feel;
Let myself feel, when I acknowledge the hurt;
Acknowledge the hurt, the sadness, the anger…
No longer can I accept this mental solitude.
It is killing me in a different way
Than I have ever experienced before, and
I refuse to be killed
Or to let myself go softly into night!
I will live loudly, freely, even joyfully!

Be reminded, O my soul:
The Most High God is my secret shelter,
Surrounding me at all times, in all places.
He is my strength to fight depression
When I have none.
He is my willingness to fight the silent emptiness
When silence is all I know.
He is my life when death and dumbness
Try to crowd me into a corner of despair.
HE IS MY GOD!