Corona in the City

The bipolar homeless (Coughs)

Tonight, my mind races

like wild horses from my childhood dreams

memories mixed, random, jumping, no feeling

Just the empty room, no light, just corners

Do I dare look at the dark corners?

Fear, terror, random thoughts

Death, soullessness, the street, grey and bare

Medication makes me slow; my life feels bare

in the corner of my room no light shines there

I try to step back to light, but still I just stare

Through the years the bipolar beast has come to rest

still in the shadows, blinking at the light

but it’s still there, hidden ready to appear

medication makes me slow, but that’s the best I bare

Now Corona strikes fear in the hearts of those who used to care,

no more do they care for us, the homeless, we are no longer there,

back of their minds, families are there, just families

As the homeless, we grow sick, we hide in the dark, coughing,

unknowing, no families we know care. Bipolar shadows still there

But we have our centres to help us out in the city,

we just have to reach out and shout for help, but my bipolar makes me scared

A helping hand, a warm blanket, a centre, a drink, some soup, a meal

My cough is just a cough, the homeless cough that we must bear

I move on again, the bipolar shadows still there

I found that my life was at a still moment, stuck between shadow of being diagnosed suddenly at 41 with bipolar. I had always known something was a little odd, but to have it confirmed after a serious incident that took me to a long stay in hospital – and suddenly stopping my life to adjust to a disease i knew very little about

Today I have refocussed my life with the support of my husband Waynne (my light), the support team at Psyq, and several stays in hospital.
Then i found by chance a need to help others, the homeless, and people at the edge of Dutch society. Today i spend once a week helping my homeless friends at the rainbow, and work on conservation of the sea with sea shepherd – My life still has shadows but with support and refocus, it’s just that little less scary

by Andy Wilson