Verses from the Heart: Exploring Emotions Through Poetry

Tia Micunovic

Tuesday 10th October is World Mental Health Day. Now, more than ever before, we need to break the stigma around talking around mental health and make it as easy as possible for everyone to access the help they need. In the UK, 15% of people are experiencing mental health problems in the workplace and 13% of all sickness absence days in the UK are attributed to mental health conditions. [1]

That’s why at EVORA we have nearly a dozen Mental Health first aiders trained and ready to help. Whether you just need to talk to someone or need to be signposted to where you can get more help, we are here, ready and with an outstretched hand.

When I’m having a mental health dip, I find it therapeutic to write poems. For me, it’s a release of all the negative emotions onto paper. By the time I’ve finished writing, I feel calmer and able to process my emotions better. The one below was written after a period when I’d written multiple poems and was very nearly at peace with my situation. This poem reflects the process of getting towards a peaceful place. I’d like to share this with you now, and hope that you too have the tools available to you to look after your mental health. From knowing when to go take a walk or read a book, to do something creative, right up to seeking professional aid.

Why do my poems only come from sadness?

From depression and worry and fear?

Can you only bare your soul when it’s splintering?

When happiness doesn’t feel so near?

Do poems come from vulnerability?

From a lack of independence and pain?

When the world feels like it’s breaking,

Earthquakes, drought, floods, and rain.

Is rhyming a form of therapy then?

To make sense of it all in black and white,

So that you want to get better and keep going

So that you don’t give up on the fight?

Maybe it’s the way you can control the words

Make them fit your lines and your timing

Make the words jump, be jolly and bright

All through a terrible use of rhyming

Yet I feel the tears dry up,

And desperation and sadness goes back.

Maybe poems are like plaster on an old broken wall

All those words start to fill up that gaping crack.

So I’ll write one more poem, one more verse, one more line.

And by the end, you’ll see, I think I’ll be fine.