Tag: mental health

Jackalope

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Jackalope by Valerie Parente

You’re just a mythical thing
a hybrid through taxidermy
jackrabbit ears
antlers that pierce
formulated after death
a concept used to make sense
of the world we don’t know
my dear jackalope.

You’re just a mythical thing
you screwed me up that morning
that’s why I’m a creature of the night
but that pain will not define
the way you broke me down
so broken but whole now
a fusion of my dual states
dark and light in the same place.

You’re just a mythical thing
two real entities mixing
to make one hell of a tall tale
and my mind went off the rails
a little truth behind the love
a little make-believe teenage crush
you got out, never quite mine
I had grace but I was chaos inside.

You’re just a mythical thing
made from the backstabbing
you don’t know me
you know a girl so naive
when I had you in my palm
before we sabotaged it all
but I’m content tonight
I found someone that felt right.

You’re just a mythical thing
my omen, my warning
you don’t play God with nature
you don’t tamper with your maker
that’s when you lose your appetite
become emaciated over night
that was no way to live
nearly got myself killed.

You’re just a mythical thing
a story I was telling
now you’re a thing of the past
and I won’t bring that pain back
a little bit of truth combined
became a tall tale over time
and I’m okay letting go
farewell, dear jackalope.

– Valerie Parente (6-6-2021)

Fever Dream

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Fever Dream by Valerie Parente

It should not be hard to believe
her manifesto is written in poetry
a declaration of every insight
she finalized with the moonlight.
A quill pen in her hand
from the feather of a phoenix
and her tempo flows and flows
a silver tongue put to a scroll.
That poet’s name, it’s Valerie
a doll manifesting her fever dream
collecting lessons like mannequins
while she learns to love again.

– Valerie Parente (6-5-2021)

The Witching Hour and the Day She Witnessed

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The Witching Hour and the Day She Witnessed by Valerie Parente

I love the brightness of the day,
but when the moon comes to play,
I like hearing the owls speak,
whistling wisdom from their beaks.

I must tell you, I respect the evening,
and the very moon that I believe in,
the dark sky brings retrospect,
to the daylight earlier witnessed.

She who is nocturnal,
owns a world that is eternal,
because there’s never an end,
to what the soul can comprehend.

Well I guess that’s how it goes,
we have experience and then we grow,
encoding it all in the witching hour,
where the spirits accompany what’s ours.

– Valerie Parente (6-5-2021)

Treehouse

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Treehouse by Valerie Parente

Started from the soil,
these roots, they intertwine,
like veins with a pulse,
a great time to be alive.

Then we branched out,
like antlers on a doe,
smelling the outdoors,
and now it feels like home.

This treehouse, I like to climb,
we go up to a fairytale place,
so whimsical and evergreen,
since the seasons have changed.

The sun stretches its hours,
the moon, it peaks at night,
the day brings experience,
the evening, an owl’s mind.

Half the year I am longing,
for my favorite spot,
so when the weather clears,
you’ll find me on the treetops.

Don’t tell me I’m the one,
if I’m still hibernating,
the real me doesn’t falter,
it speaks with a cadence.

I don’t resent the gray,
it shows me where I’ve been,
I can appreciate the green,
when the gray finally ends.

Well I guess that’s the truth,
where Persephone could be found,
half the year under the earth,
half the year in a treehouse.

– Valerie Parente (6-5-2021)

Under My Skin

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Under My Skin by Valerie Parente

They say “you used to be afraid
what is it that changed?”
and the truth of the matter is
fear still crawls under my skin
made from germs that stain
the touch sensors in my brain
with adrenaline on the run
running towards my love
because there’s a difference
between hearing and listening
and I still hear it under my flesh
but I listen fifty percent less
there comes a time when I wash
much lighter, no more scratching off
those bloody knuckles are a thing of the past
because when you touch my hand I want it to last
that anxiety inside still cowers
but the person outside is louder
so I’m carving out the time
to be uncomfortably alive.

– Valerie Parente (6-4-2021)

Sequence

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Sequence by Valerie Parente

If I got to pick and choose the order
it would still be chronological
because I want you to see the progression
forever a path, and not an obstacle.
Hurting led to healing,
healing led to hope,
hope is ongoing,
and there will always be growth.

– Valerie Parente (6-2-2021)

I think God is an artist…

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I think God is an artist… by Valerie Parente

More and more each day
I realize that mental illness is poetic.
So many ironies,
so many metaphors,
I think God is an artist…
I’m afraid of what I already am
and that brought me to my knees,
how the mind is like a nesting doll
mirroring the larger reality.
The more lessons I learn
the more I’m able to recognize
the sense of humor
in God’s artistic mind…
it’s kind of sick,
it’s kind of beautiful,
it’s so poetic,
like my own soul…
and maybe that’s the truth
that your maker is no more than you
that your very identity
is one with the God that sees it through.

– Valerie Parente (5-29-2021)

Cherry Blossom Scent

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Cherry Blossom Scent by Valerie Parente

I always liked the cherry blossom scent
and how it made me feel in my adolescence
just a school girl with a crush
before I was too scared to touch
with potential towering so high
before I channeled it into a demise.

I died once before, so sickly thin and jaded
it changed my brain chemistry and how it operated.
Took over a decade to undo those patterns
never gone, never lost, but now I know how to battle.
I’m stronger now, from the inside out
it happened for a reason, I trust that now.

Everyone has a challenge, and this was mine
multiple mental illnesses, merging and intertwined.
It’s that smell of cherry blossom hand sanitizer
my mind goes back, but this time I’m wiser.
So it is, my perception, ripened from the strife
I’m here now, I’m breathing, and I wouldn’t change this life.

– Valerie Parente (5-28-2021)

The Giver (I)

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The Giver (I) by Valerie Parente

The gift and the giver are one in the same
because your company is the currency
that I’ll never trade
and I am enriched
by the space you take
deep inside
my pretty brain.

– Valerie Parente (5-26-2021)