I Hate Chinooks

So apparently it wasn't spring it was a Chinook. For those of you who don't know what a Chinook is, it is a very warm wind that comes through melts alot and generally makes weather conditions spring like. Most people like them for the wonderful reprieve they bring. I HATE them! I hate them for the false hope they bring and the despair that follows. Many times after a Chinook leaves plants will die because they are fooled into thinking it is spring and begin to grow or flower or the sap will begin to run and then the Chinook ends and a horrible cold snap sets in and everything dies. Have you ever heard the horrible sound of a tree exploding from the cold?

Broken

It can bear the cold no more

It has wept dry silent tears

The tree shudders in the wind

Breaks from within

Containing the pain no longer

The rending tear

Is echoed across the distance

-2005-

The Depression that set in after my Chinook was worse than before. It is horrible. I have always had a part of me that has clung to life. The desire to travel and see the world, to watch my children grow and be a part of their lives, to have the dream of living on a farm. to do those few things I always thought unique and interesting. That part of me is almost gone, faded away in the grey mists of my despair, or drowned in the deep sorrow of a life that has too much overwhelming stress to be able to tread the waters that weary me. I am tired, I want to sleep and never wake. I find it hard to care anymore, I have no idea what makes me do the few things that I still do, although I feel like vomiting when I do them. I find human interaction extremely uncomfortable, it makes me want to rip the nerves out of my skin. So perhaps this insight into me when I am not happy will explain some of my darker poetry.