shadows and light reveal

nothing through the window.

unintentionally late. someone took my place.

now sitting


on a bench,

waiting for an opening.

my first “intake.”

heavy heat is settling in.

fragments of feelings screened by plain yellow door,

cracked walls,

broken sun and then,

diffident, I resist,

refrain from testifying to the ominous presence

threatening my existence.


a breeze is what I need.

cool air on my face…

grains of sea salt amplified by longing

touch my lips, my tongue.

movement of waves

back and forth…

waves of movement ooze electricity up my thighs

ripple behind, round my breasts,

up and over and around

softly caressing, rocking, pacifying


for one brief moment I feel good.



intellectually guarded, confounded

wrapped in self pity, self loathing, self preservation and

fears. louder voices wake me from my fantasy,

call my name.

there, in a circle of professional strangers

are slips of paper slipped through time,

survivors of crimes, tormented lines, abused curves,

dots and coffee stains.

my frightened beads glance around,

a bird soon to be caged,

I can’t remember how to fly.

they are staring at me, looking through me and beyond

to some meaningful insight.

perspectives shifting in their chairs.

scribbles and screens. they will intervene or

hold me.

(rocking… )

and then I want to be free

with no presence but my own




uncertain of what I am to face but,



the moment before dawn is the darkest,

but then there can be light.

there will be.

I will be


~ entered in OpenLinkNight – week 10 at dVerse Poets Pub, Brian Miller hosting – read, link, comment, drink… enjoy!  


About Debbie Shahar

My thoughts, fears, feelings... intertwine. They change. I do not sometimes. They too sometimes stay the same. The song in me wants to fly free. The bird has it. I need it. I cannot Let me be. "Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought And not waving but drowning." (1-4, Stevie Smith, from: Not Waving but Drowning") background image of Gravatar: photographer AB Troen, my youngest brother.

Posted on September 19, 2011, in Depression, fear, longing, poem and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 24 Comments.

  1. in-sunity – nice word play – not such a nice feeling that damn depression 😛

  2. A vivid pour of words and image. Light can be hard to find before dawn, but even the longest night ends.

  3. Great imagery conjured up with your piece and yeah the feeling is nothing but turmoil.

  4. yes you will deb…. such an honest and raw write, made me swallow hard in some lines – the bird to be caged and when we forget how to fly…but with the sun the wings will grow again..

  5. from the wonderful beginning to the state of grace attained in the finale – i was hooked – the language and the meaning – fantastic

  6. wow debbie…intense piece…i can feel the angst and even detatchement from the professionals…slips of paper in the middle…you are right in that moment before dawn the shadows come even without the sun…

  7. you will be will fly….tomorrow is a new day!

  8. And I hope you will find the breeze and fly. These lines are very meaningful:

    the moment before dawn is the darkest,

    but then there can be light.

    Hope all is well ~ Happy day ~

  9. Yes depression can get you down so badly I hope that you will find your flight like a bird and have happy days from now until the end of time thanks for sharing

  10. It’s so hard to fight a past that was forced upon you. I thought this was a great line, “I can’t remember how to fly” and “perspectives shifting in their chairs” and throughout you really expressed the torment one experiences with deep wounds they long to be free from. But wings will work again 🙂

  11. Quite a write – you took me through the feelings of fear and anxiety and how it is specific for you. Well done!

  12. Debbie,

    Intense. Powerful. You have the gift of being elevating language and imagery and charge them with emotional content. It wouldn’t say I “enjoyed” it. It’s not that kind of work. But I find myself very affected by the vision and artistry and execution.

  13. Hi Joy – i know that night should end… at some point. i always worry i won’t(or – don’t) remember how to live in light, with joy…
    hiya Pat ~ i appreciate your comment there – even though there are no clever rhymes in my write 😉
    hi Claudia – i suppose part of this is my own “therapy” and it’s also partly to convey what it feels like to others. thank you.
    Arron – thanks a lot!
    brian – I always think I’m too down… intense… for your smiles. thanx for reading and commenting.
    Ahalan Ayala – Toda. I still have some hope, although it’s tiring…
    hi Heaven – thanks for dropping by and commenting.
    Sarah ~ thank you for your optimism
    Lori – hi 🙂 I appreciate your comment… I hope you’re right (about the wings).
    Gay – you’re very kind
    thank you, Steve (blushing…)

    deb @–>—

  14. Hi Debbie, I went through your poem several times and I want you to know that every time the cadence of words shot through me the same way, and so I would say undeniably that your poem has a rythym that opened into me… And so as a matter of physical beauty, the words themselves, yes, are delightful and read beautifully… with that said I want to let you know why I read this poem several times…. At first there were a thousand images taking me into a thousand directions. And so I wasn’t sure if the correct images were striking me or not. When I finished the fourth reading though I became certain. And I hope you will forgive me if I’m wrong…. My own past and history colors my understanding of things. Having worked in law enforcement for 25 years is a color you don’t forget. Your poem tells me that you were the victim of a crime waiting to be interviewed or possibly meeting with victim assistance counselors, who are generally reserved for the most horrific physical crimes. If i am wrong about that than I completely apologize and hope you won’t ever think that your poem caused such a misunderstanding. As I said, it’s totally me. But if I’m correct, Debbie, then I applaud you for bringing this out, for using your increible talent to describe a single part of that whole part of your life which I’m sure sometimes seems like just a yellow, painful blur. The emotions there have to be simply beyond the scale of anything I can understand, or anyone else who has never endured something like that. I’m not an experienced, intelligent poet, and I hope you will take this with a grain of salt for whatever is worth, or not worth, but I wold like to suggest 2 things: Emphasize a little more strongly where you are at. The word “intake” is familiar to me because I’m in law enforcement, but even most people who have been arrested don’t know that word. In the U.S. it means a part of the jail, or a sub-system wihtin the local jail system, reserved for the intake of new arrestees or prisoners. Booking takes place there, fingerprints, photos, etc… I would suggest using a word like “detective” or even “counselor” in a way that might be subtly conjoined with the later refernce to “victim.” ie, “someone took my place, the detective said.” Secondly, you are not a guy, so maybe this will be of some value to you: the mention of rippled behinds and electric thighs tend to cause us guys to lose our train of thought. No matter what we are doing or how deep in thought we might be, those things tend to just wipe our minds clean of anything else but that. And I’m not saying to remove those sensual remarks because they are beautiful, and besides, causing someone’s mind to drift is the whole point of poetry in my opinion. But I just wanted you to know how powerful they are and that sometimes after those kind of images you need to bring your reader back up to speed on what he has already read, mildly reminding him of what point in the story he is at. Now that I have said all of this and am possibly wrong in my assumptions, you should know that I am incredibly happy to have stopped by here because I think this is a very touching, emotional, beautiuful piece of written art….. It displays every bit of talent that I wish to possess….

    • Hi John, thank you for stopping by, reading and commenting.
      For me, poetry is not something that is to be clearly cut or defined. I didn’t write about law enforcement or detectives. They aren’t relevant to my story. But, if they are to you, that’s ok. Then you can place your interpretation on my words, without me chaining my words to match your story.
      Your second point had to do with men’s minds… Well, women too. Actually, in the poem it comes as an interlude, a refrain, just as the speaker wishes to refrain from speaking about her deepest hurts and fears, she also refrains from her reality for a bit, daydreaming of something… Good. Te sea leading to another memory…
      I thought a lot about how to respond to your comment just because with me putting into words what I meant, sort of diminishes th meaning, and opportunity of various meanings for me and perhaps other readers as well.
      What I write is from me. What you read is from you…
      I have read and enjoyed some of your writing. Again, thank you for commenting. It is also nice to discuss… 🙂

  15. You’ve written a deep dark tangle of emotions here. In a place like this sometimes the best you can do is wait it out.

  16. night is your jailer ….but you are your warder ….with light comes freedom and liberty . love the poem and the intensity you conveyed …thank you for sharing x

  17. The way you wrote of the circular group of folks with their coffee stains is really stunning poetry.

    I’m finding the light is in each moment, if I let myself see it, good reminder thanks.

  18. A sharp evocation of effacement, nullity, darkness… much felt, Debbie…. 🙂

  19. amazing showcase one’s anger..

    powerful write.

  20. this is incredible.

    glad to read you and love your blog.
    welcome sharing your poetry with us today,
    first time participants can do free linking up to 3 poems, you can write for our challenge if you want to, no obligations, we are open until Thursday night, 8pm…
    hope to see you in.
    keep up the excellence.

    would love to read you again, take good care, keep your beautiful talent coming.

  1. Pingback: voices viii |

Thank You! smiles, suggestions & comments are welcomed with love...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

שירת יוסף - ቅኔ ዮሴፍ

אתר שירים אישי / የስነ ግጥም ብሎግ /

Niki's Blog

Just another site


A topnotch site


Combining a love for photography and writing.


Hope isn't an emotion, but a daily choice. Choose hope.

Pandamoniumcat's Blog

Artist and writer

Poetry and Prose

Poetry by Walter Marks

Freya Writes...

... because she can

georgeplacepoetry by Debi Swim

Poetry Prompts from around the net

Björn Rudbergs writings

Poetry and fiction by a physicist from the dark side

Poems by Kumar Gautam

Poems are my first hand emotions. The molten lava within me that overflows with tectonic shift of time, I just scribble and present it before you. Poems are the first tool that taught me to express and that too without any prejudice or bias. I have promised myself to continue with it throughout my life.


Just another human being who's trying to reach new levels of consciousness.

She's in Prison

Poetry by Leanne Rebecca Ortbals

Carol Troen

Copyright © 2013, Carol Troen, All rights reserved

Bina's Pad

...where girl comes to meet with God

Beachanny's Texas



Just another site is the best place for your personal blog or business site.

%d bloggers like this: