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.