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gladding's work
(more on who he is soon)
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1
It comes in slowly like a whisper
Aching into the marrow of the bone
Like the chill of dull gray winter mornings.
Quietly it restsIt comes in slowly like a whisper
Aching into the marrow of the bone
Like the chill of dull gray winter mornings.
Quietly it rests
Heavy on the heart in motion
Creating a subtle pressure
That throws the rhythmic beat
Ever so slightly
Off.
Depression rules in silence
Unseen but deeply felt,
A shadow of despair in the hourglass of life
Cleverly disgusted at times
With a smile.
-- reprinted from “Depression” by S.T. Gladding
2
As our sessions go on you speak of your scars
And show me the places where you have burned.
Sadly, I hear your fiery stories
Reliving with you, through your memories and words,
All of the tension-filled blows and events
That have beaten and shaped your life.
“I wish I were molten steel,” you say,
“and you were a blacksmith’s hammer.
Maybe then, on time’s anvil, we could structure together
A whole new person, with soft smooth sounds,
Inner strength and glowing warmth.”
-- reprinted from “Scars” by S.T. Gladding
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