maybe i walked out of the womb with it
is it possible to be born
with a melancholy spirit
maybe it met me at the airport
slid into my passport
and remained with me
long after we landed
in a country that did not want us
maybe it was on my father’s face
when he met us in baggage claim
and i had no idea who he was
perhaps it was in my father’s punch
in my mother’s inability to say anything
i lost my voice in her silence
maybe it was at the bottom of the bathtub
when he held my head down underwater
maybe it was the welcome gift
from the kids at school
who laughed at the clothes i wore
my oily braids
my skin my nose my english
maybe the rapist left it behind
maybe it was the years of abuse
from that criminal i called a boyfriend
perhaps he beat it into my head
maybe it was too much
maybe i met the one
then lost him
perhaps it was the love of my life’s
parting gift
maybe it was all of those things
all at once
Where The Depression Is From
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