A Poem About Schizophrenia

© Copyright 2011 Patrice Walker All rights reserved

Early Experiments Writing Poetry

I’ve never considered myself a poet, although I’ve fooled around with writing poetry from time to time. One of those times was in the mid-90s. I’d purchased a book called You Can Write Poetry, a little paperback that I figured would be a nice, easy introduction to the art form.

A number of different poetic structures was described, and I selected what I thought would be a fairly easy structure (repeating the words “This is a poem about …” in each line) in which to showcase my first poem. Don’t ask me what this structure is called; I no longer have the book so I can’t give it a name. Perhaps someone more versed in the art form can tell me what it is.

In any event, I selected a subject that had a tremendous amount of emotional import for me at the time, namely my brother, now in his 60s, who has suffered from schizophrenia for most of his adult life.

Schizophrenia is a disease of the brain that affects more than 2 million people in the United States alone. Symptoms include withdrawal from interaction with family and friends, hallucinations, disordered and/or delusional thinking, as well as aberrant behavior and speech. While the disease is presently incurable, it can be successfully treated with the right anti-psychotic drugs. And while the media tend to portray people with schizophrenia as violent, a pet peeve of mine, they rarely are.

My brother began exhibiting signs of the disease in his early teens, with symptoms progressing until he was finally diagnosed as having schizophrenia in his early twenties.

The biggest issue for him, as well as for our family, was getting him on the right medication and keeping him on it. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done because, as an adult, he couldn’t be forced to take the medication unless he became a danger to himself or others. And when the medication made him feel better, my brother believed he was cured and would stop taking it. Therefore, our family went through many cycles of his being on and off medication over a 30-year period.

In the following poem, I tried to convey my frustration, anger, fear, and sadness when he wasn’t taking his medication and how he and the home environment improved when he was.

This is a poem about bedroom doors slamming shut, and R & B music blaring from a radio turned as high as it can go.
This is a poem about telephone receivers left greasy with Gherri curl drip.
This is a poem about the stink of an unwashed body, and the foul odor emanating from a room never aired out.
This is a poem about a brother who hides in his room all day, reading aloud from a
mountainous stack of magazines, his voice monotonous and droning, devoid of emotion.

This is a poem about denial and betrayal, of parents who act as if nothing is wrong.
This is a poem about the hurt I feel when my opinions and needs are overridden in favor of someone incapable of reasoning.
This is a poem about the pain of a brother who hates me because he hates himself.
This is a poem about the tension that fills me whenever I meet him face to face, not knowing how he’ll react.

This is a poem about a brother allowed to exist in a hell not of his making instead of being given the full life he deserves.
This is a poem about medicine finally administered and the hope that now it’ll be better.
This is a poem about an angry, twisted face transformed, softening, smiling?
This is a poem about fear lessening and giving way to joy.
This is a poem about praying it will last.
This is a poem about schizophrenia.

© Copyright Patrice Walker 1996, revised 1998 and 2011

I’m happy to say that my brother has been consistently taking his medication for several years now and is doing very well.

If you are interested in learning more about mental illness in general or schizophrenia in particular, visit the website of the National Alliance on Mental Illness.