Poetry

Great Wave

When Hokusai painted his Great Wave off Kanagawa

I wonder if he was painting what depression would look like for future generations?

Because that’s what depression is: a wave with claws

It rears up without warning

A tsunami of anxiety that swirls in the depths

A living, breathing thing as fathomless as nature

It crashes over you without rhyme or reason

It washes away everything you’ve built

And leaves you drowning in the wreckage

It casts you adrift on tides of uncertainty

Alone, even when there’s life all around you

The wave will come again

But you can ride it out with the people who know you best

They’ll be waiting with their lifelines

To pull you free

To stop you from drowning

To help you breathe again