Dissolve: Original Poem on Depression

I want to dissolve.

I have never desired something so much as I do this morning.

But the rustling of tree branches adorned with leaves
seeps in from my window, pulling me out of bed,
and carries me out the door.

I find myself lying flat on my back on the sidewalk.

The sunlight presses down, covering my body like a weighted anxiety blanket.

The breeze whispers, gently slipping her fingers between my toes,
massaging all the tender aches and knots.

I have never felt the wind on the soles of my feet.

The mockingbird in the half-century oak
sings in a thousand years’ worth of languages,
words and symbols beyond my mind.

My skin thaws,
and I do not dissolve. I rise.