do you notice them the watchful, the weary, sometimes gaunt or busily hunched or seated, alone drawing, scribbling into closely guarded journals, or walking, forever walking avoiding contact, interaction, engagement - maintaining distance shepherding commuters from psychosis, paranoia, unwellness, either diagnosed or undiagnosed while a few, bolder, shout esoteric warnings to the crowd, curious onlookers or the sky –
symptomatic of the discarded, the misfit or the rejected they dot the urban landscape uncounted but monitored, lest they attack the shadows we cannot see
I am considered an 'emerging poet' at my local 'open mic' collective after joining them just last March. I don't shy away from my mental health past but people are still uncertain about the 'politics'. "Is he/she going to hurt/harm me?", or "am I at risk here?" "Mental illness, that means danger, doesn't it?"
I started 'reading' while I lived and worked in Alice Springs where I distanced myself from my 'illness' but received acknowledgement for my efforts. I have been writing for over fifteen years as a 'scribbler' but have recently become interested in becoming published and so have increased my efforts.