The Whisper

The Whisper

It touched me once

Upon my ear, just a peep

I flicked it away

And drifted back to sleep

Stronger it got

Come with me to the deep

Just take my hand

Here we’ll never weep


It’s not the best poem I’ve ever written. It may not even qualify as a poem, just a garbled gaggle of words. I don’t care. I wrote it in haste. I did so because my daughter woke up this morning to the fact that a friend of hers from high school, just nineteen, was so tired of living that he had hanged himself. A cousin of mine, someone I looked up to, took a gun and blew his brains out just past his fortieth birthday.

I am not writing this to judge or really to make any other kind of point. No one can know their pain. To do what they did, the pain must have been intolerable.

I just know I don’t understand it.

And I thank God for that lack of understanding.





About timkeen40

When I was seven, I opened one of those little Golden Books (Lassie) and started copying the words down on paper and it set my soul on fire. I have been writing ever since. I don't know where this is going but I invite you along on the journey.
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3 Responses to The Whisper

  1. prenin says:

    When my life was torn to pieces some 30 years ago I tried to take my life because I had nothing left.

    Thanks to the feeding frenzy of the Police, Press and Media I had nobody and was in such pain all I could think of was to end it, but my tormentors used the psychiatric unit to get to me, etc.

    This nightmare continued even after I was release six weeks later and would continue until the present day.

    My crime?

    I’m an abuse survivor who wouldn’t sell his story.

    Last Thursday the Police FINALLY stopped adding crap to my water supply (They’ve used this trick a number of times), but is this mess over?

    I doubt it.

    Now I know what it is to be an enemy of the state… :/


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