The Word

(We were not told for years what was wrong with Chris
so consequently I didn’t accept that he had schizophrenia,
this next poem attempts to explain this)

Schizophrenia there its done
Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue
8 years it stayed within my mouth
I couldn’t quite manage to spit it out
A sad achievement but there its done
A label for my precious son

We thought naively they’d be able
Within weeks to make you stable
But sadly you sleep your young life away
16 hours on average every day
Now you’re timid quiet subdued
Not fiery angry hyper rude

My senses scream my senses shout
For God’s sake whats this all about
Wondering endlessly what this curse is
Depot injections and psychi nurses
Mrs Wakefield try not to worry
We’re doing all we can we’re sorry

You know there’s not a magic pill
Now calm down or you’ll both be ill
Make an appointment see your G.P.
This is bad for Christian can’t you see
G.P. gave me Prozac and after a while
I’m flying high I wear a smile

But we’re both exhausted from the strain
We watch you struggle feel your pain
Split mind? Split Personality?
Get the leaflets then you’ll see
Or just ask me I’ve read them all
Its really not like that at all

For all the sufferers I have met
One thing strikes me I can’t forget
Their sweet natures shin on thru’
Thru’ all their pain and anguish too
They’ve a God given gift humility
So much more than you or me
So try to learn don’t turn away
Who knows it might be you one day.