When it comes to our mental wellbeing, feelings being misunderstood or left unheard can be painful and isolating. Yet, it's common a feeling. It can be reassuring, in that respect, to read words or see artwork that touch on our personal experiences. That moment of recognition is quite magical.
Our Mental Health Exhibition has been put together by various artists across Scotland in a bid to share work, identity and stories within a community that they may not have before, in a safe space. Click the image below to take you to the event page for the exhibition, and scroll to the end to view the full week's programme of events.
We hope you can make it along, and in the meantime, we would like to share with you the words of local poets Daniel Gillespie and and Stuart Paterson.
By Daniel Gillespie:
MOONLIT TIDE DANCE
The moon reflects off the sea
and the beaches lie untouched tonight.
I pull the tide closer
with every step,
leaving no trace behind me.
I follow the moon
as she gazes upon the skerries and the tired and lonesome hearts.
The cold waters fill up my boots
and my body begins to shake.
I keep walking, I follow the moon,
I leave no trace.
My face is just pictures
You see me,
but I see imperfections.
We can see what we want to see,
But you’ll never see what I see,
you’ll never be me.
I will fall asleep.
I’ll sleep until I’m hidden like the bones
below the soil.
I’ll dream of tomorrow
but I’ll never look back.
THE FEAR OF NOT KNOWING THE KNOWN
I long to unplug you from this nightmare.
To free you from the shackles of self doubt.
The fear is from the unknown, but I’m certain the uncertainty will end soon my love.
You will see the light again, just wait and see, trust me.
By Stuart Paterson:
A POET NOT WANTING TO WRITE ABOUT DAFFODILS BUT STRANGELY COMPELLED TO WHILE ALMOST DYING
While I’m in hospital being opened
up by expert hands & terrifying steel.
these wait for me outside at home, have
finally popped their bright new heads
above the terrifying parapet of winter.
When I left them they were cooried in a box
& thinly blanketed by soil, asleep to
everything the season had to chuck
at them. Now they're stretching skyward,
fragile necks gathering strength for when
the Spring will see them open up their faces
in the momentary universal
smiles of all their kind.
They'll wait for me,
a small corral of chorus by the kitchen
window holding in one glorious yellow
breath beneath the spotlight of the sun.
Amazing, how one birl & look can turn a life into something more than itself, how one small parting of lips, hard-earned & angled for in a thousand breaths
of response, can draw you in, remould the very essence of what you'll be. One minute unalive to what this holds, the next a cosmos of possibility.
How futures change so beautifully & unaided. Who knows the word on which a world might hang? The past's a land that's overcultivated. Let's turn & till our future earth, by hand.
Mental Health Week Programme