losing our grip on purpose

By Paulette Hampton

Years ago, when I hobbled through this world /
unmedicated,
I was at constant odds with my thoughts, /
daring me to do and say things I could /
never take back.
I quieted them most of the time with /
sacrificial compulsions until “it felt right.”
Finally, when my weary brain couldn’t /
take anymore, a gauzy yellow veil
slipped between my eyes and the rest /
of the world,
staining life like the discoloration of an old photo,
a casualty of the acid I’m made of.
Yellow was the color of derealization,
of my anxiety in full bloom; /
its pollen clinging to my existence.
Every day became too much, /
and I hid from life’s scorching rays,
seeking dark quiet places where /
my mind could be cooled by Maastricht Blue dreams.
There I stayed until medication lifted /
my coarse saffron shroud,
revealing reality’s grounding spectrum.

Paulette Hampton holds a Masters in Reading Education. She is the author of the YA paranormal novel Of the Lilin and memoir When Life was Yellow: A Memoir of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Her poems have appeared in Immortal Hymns Rewritten Realms, Secret Attic, and elsewhere. She lives with her husband and two cats in North Carolina.