Writing From the Road: Roseau, Minnesota

And this poem, by Zowe Cartwright.

Mental Sanctuary

by Zowe Cartwright

 

Mental Homes come in many different shapes and sizes

They can depend on your emotions

Anger, Anxiousness, Sadness, Ecstatic, Content, and so many more.

My Anger Home is a softball field, a place I allow myself to let out almost all of my anger

I close my eyes and imagine myself in a softball game, up to the plate, waiting for the pitcher to pitch

She pitches the ball and i now must decide quickly if I am going to swing, or let it go by me

I swing the bat

Strike One

I step out of the Batter’s Box to take a practice swing

Before I go back in, I look at my coach and he gives me the sign to swing away

I step back in, once again waiting for the pitcher to pitch

She pitches the ball and it hits the ground

Ball One

I once again step out, hear the sign to swing

The pitcher pitches the ball and i swing the bat

Strike Two

I now have One Ball and Two Strikes; I have to swing the bat

I step back into the Batter’s Box

Waiting for the pitcher to pitch the ball

Once she pitches the ball i time my swing just right and i smash the ball out into Right Field

I glide through the air as fast as I possibly can

Going around First Base

Second Base

Third Base

Once I was ¾ of the way towards home, the Shortstop threw the ball  to the catcher but overshot it

Once it’s past the catcher i slide into home, barely knowing the pitcher was close to getting me out

I waited for what felt like eternity for the Ump’s call

“SAFE!”

I was safe! I just made a complete home run!

Now when I’m in the field, I can let out my anger by throwing the ball as hard as I can to the correct person.

My Anxious Home is me, hanging out with this dark-haired young man

He intimidates me with his baritone voice, his height and somewhat good looks

He may be my best friend in real life, but he’s also in my Depressed Home

I imagine myself crying for an unknown reason

This same young man is comforting me

Whispering in my ear that it’s going to be okay

I never know where I am or how I got there

In my Ecstatic Home i’m on a bus ride with the band

Singing our hearts out to whatever song comes to our minds

My Nervous Home has two different parts:

Me hanging out with the young man

Or me playing a flute solo on a stage in front of a thousand plus people

When i’m done with my solo, the crowd roars in applause

Self-absorbed I know

My Content Home is me in the band room

Hanging out with band members that stay after school, just playing our instruments, goofing around and talking about random things while doing random things

Mental Homes

They come in many different shapes and sizes

Maybe you don’t have one for each emotion like me or you don’t even have a mental home at all and that’s okay

They don’t have to be mental either, but physical places that you feel are home.

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