How simple it would be


After my sleep,

-which was not peaceful

but only a pause from despair,

a blankeing nothingness,

where my exhausted Self

was a given a moment of brief repse-

I awaken,

not to a morning of tender sunbeams

through my window,

but to a dark night of emptiness,

devoid even of moonlight,

which takes me into it

like a mother takes a child to her breast

and I go willingly,

too weak to resist.

I stumble throught the day

with scattered thoughts

and dizzy concept of self,

and a misery so great,

tempered only by

a kind of still calm,

the calm of knowing how simple it would be

to permanently return to my dark unconciousness,

forever free of the death-like grip of torment.

The glimpse of relief I feel at this thought

is soon thrown back with full force

by a wave of pain,

almost physical,

that I can forsee,

coming from all those, who, for some reason,

would be sadened by my departure.

After this battle of the wills is over once more,

I look to the hand I once decided to grasp,

and am starteled as I realize it hasn't ever let go,

and won't ever do so,

until I decide to wean myself

and pull myself out into the light.

Even if it is only moonlight at first.

View dolphin's Full Portfolio
Harmony Raines's picture

I read a lot of poetry, and it takes a lot for a poem to move me to tears, but your three poems in this "suicide" section have gotten me there. When I've felt that way I could never have gotten it down so beautifully. You write what my heart has felt. I loved reading these poems because they really made me grateful for how far I've come, and as you said, "the hand I once decided to grasp...has never let go" - for people who provided that.
Thank you for writing these.

Dan Griffin's picture

wow... this is truly beautiful.