Sunday, February 24, 2013

Poem : Petals Falling

Anne Sexton knew its secret
Kurt Cobain understood its allure
Sylvia Plath
Well Sylvia
She couldn’t make up her mind
Toying with the undertone
Hands outstretched, her head barely above water
Wanting the sea to take her away to its dark depths
Yet struggling to stay afloat
But isn’t everyday a struggle for the depressant
Yet, attempting suicide
Is almost as rewarding as succeeding
In some strange way it calms them
For it’s the only time they’re in complete control
But the toll it takes
On their family and friends
Is more than most can bear
All are there in the beginning
But they drop away
One by one
As the days drift into years
Like petals from a flower
The longer it lives, the more petals fall from its outside
And the ones left to pick up the pieces
Have to bear it alone
Lying to themselves if need be
That it will work out
Something will magically change
In the thinking of the suicidal
And death won’t be so becoming of an answer
Yes, alone is a terrible feeling
When your petals have fallen away
But the flower is still alive
At least for the moment
Breathing through a tube in some cold hospital room
While their family is cleaning blood out of a sink
Or sitting remembering the last conversation they had
With the ones now in a coma
When pills have jumbled their speech
Into a mixture of language no one can understand
But they still reach out, you know?
Their eyes somehow recognize you
Even clouded with death’s looming reflection
Yes, they reach out
For that last hug goodbye

1 comment:

  1. So tough escaping from despair. Questions always remain. Not so neat and tidy. Rough one to write, I'm sure.