Beckett: Poetry – No. 1456, The Devil’s Chord: Depression II

It crept back in insidious;
the demon made himself at home.
Passion lost and self-worth stolen
with the softest of subtleties,
I lost all meaning in myself.

Hear, then, the strike of the Devil’s chord:
“I am a naturally repugnant person.
That’s why I have few friends
and why women see only my filth.
I am completely unlovable, never worth it.”

Meaning in relationships decreased,
like a child throwing a rock down a cistern
for sheer enjoyment, to be long forgotten, —
and never to be sought after,
for I am a dull stone among sapphires.

The cacophony of worthlessness
strikes the dissonant chord of self-hatred.
I cannot sing in tune, joy absent
in my life’s chord progression
until I heard God’s familiar aria:

“You are baptised into Christ.
Therefore, you are My child.
You belong to Me.
Receive, now, your inheritance.”

Christ is the resolution to my chord
as I give handshakes without apathy.
With the inheritance of eternal life,
God’s will written in my Baptism,
I am a beloved son of God.

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