At a High Open Window

I shut my hope against the stark terrain of winter:
stubbled fields, skeletal trees, and soundless skies.
For too long I’ve dreamt of summer’s smile,
but February freezes my cage-like chest,
while my heart expands like the universe
into greater and greater emptiness.

Across the street, a crew of black birds
sweep into a bald oak, their oily wings
raise a feathery clatter, and I too long to land,
hungry for release, searching for peace
beyond the sill, where gravity urges
the wingless to distant Earth.
This is my nothing time, where I spend every hour
pleading for the courage to murder my inner voice,
end its vicious litany: incompetent imposter,
worthless weakling, loathsome — liar.

On the horizon, the sun’s last light
refracts through dust and turns violet,
like irises or gentians in April,
when the bright birds return to sing.
But now, beyond the sill, only crows rustle
in their barren and leafless oak to stare
with burnished black eyes —
patient enough to wait.

This poem has an element of biographic truth to it.

After 20 years in the Air Force, I was working as an English Teacher and suffering from depression, feeling totally overwhelmed as I fought to teach, run the one-act play, and train the speech team — all during my first year. Not to mention my wife and I had just moved to a new town and were raising two children, 2 and 5.

One evening I found myself on the third floor, standing on a chair, and opening the window. I stood there for a while, looking out at the fall landscape, thinking about an end to my internal torment.

At heart and even intellectually, I knew a jump would not be an answer, that it would only open a different kind of wound throughout my family. So, I closed the window, stepped down, and called 911. That was the end of my teaching career. I didn’t recover for half a year, so I was forced to resign my position and move on.

As way led on to way, I became a substitute teacher, a masters student and TA, a weight room supervisor, an Anytime Fitness manager, and finally a self-employed personal trainer. I’m so glad I turned away from the window to where I am now. I still struggle at times, yet I am sincerely happy and can handle what sadnesses life lays at my feet.

Thanks for reading!

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