Predisposed

A poem about my mother and I

I was genetically predisposed to depression
The helix of life �" splintered
I speak nothing of how long it has lingered

Germinated, settled low in my brain and
Grown to the size of a baby’s fist
When I was oh too young

I do not blame my mother for giving me this
I do not believe she knew it was growing in her
When I did as well

And maybe she just wished for something
To call her own, just as it’s fertile spores did
And I belong to both

And when I go “I am angry.” it knows
And she knows
That I cannot be anything beyond this

Author's Note

:-)

Reviews

[Curly Grace]

A quiet but powerful piece. The way you describe depression as something inherited and growing inside you is haunting and beautifully done. There’s a tenderness in how you speak of your mother, even while acknowledging the weight you carry. A soft, striking poem.