What My Brother's Suicide Taught Me
In every moment that I exist,
There is the choice to live,
And lurking therein,
Above and beyond the vanities of life,
Which draw the multitudes in,
The fear which provides,
Most men the strength to not die,
Is absent.
I am a burning candle,
But the wax smothers the flame,
And it is being snuffed out inside of me,
In a decisive agony,
Like a suicide,
That goes on, and on,
And though I wish to leave,
I am present.
I wish that I were young again,
So very far from the end,
Again,
The end which comes,
Through growing too wise.
I wish I were a fool again,
So very far from the edge,
Again,
Which is not a cliff or a danger,
On the outside.
An enemy has his residence,
In my home.
Inside, inside.
And alone I spend my life,
Alone I spend,
This life.
I spend it in a solitary confinement.
Like a beetle in a jar,
That a child collected,
And forgot,
And then on the way home,
Remembers,
And in silence,
Grows depressed.
Or a seed,
Which was planted,
The gardener is absent,
And it did not sprout,
But lay there,
It laid down in there,
Smothered by the ground.
My life is a seed,
Which was not watered,
But the Gardener above,
While walking in His garden,
Noticed a noble struggle,
Between the frigid ground and me,
But in the end,
He noticed what was ultimately,
My defeat.
And then in grace,
He chose to water me.
And then my life took it's root,
And then this life sprouted it's chute,
And in a rapid spurt it grew,
Until it was finally grown,
It grew into a rose.
I tended to my garden,
In admiration of the precious rose,
Which seemed to bring a kind of hope,
When I noticed upon its stalk,
A thorn.
Such beauty,
A crimson red,
And petals as soft as a woman's breast,
A rose amongst roses,
Whose scent was coveted by all those with noses,
And then,
I went to pluck the rose,
Which was a lover to my nose,
Inside a garden,
In which nothing grows,
A gift from the Lord,
A precious loan,
This was the pinnacle of,
my existence.
As I clutched the rose's stalk,
I noticed a different kind of red.
A crimson color, as the first,
A crimson color, was the next.
A sensation took it's root,
And then the feeling of pain,
Grew.
In the pinnacle of my existence,
I was pierced by a thorn,
There I held pleasure,
As I was gripped by pain.
There was the beauty,
And there was the bane,
Of my,
Pinnacled existence.
I cursed and threw the rose,
And it landed by my feet.
I threw away what I alone,
Could never attain,
That which was a gift to me,
In anger.
Now the rose has long since died,
It grew brown, decayed, and dried,
But there is another seed,
Here in my life,
And I pray that He will water me,
Or else,
I will surely die.
And so in every instant,
There is the power to proceed.
Also in every instant,
There lurks within me,
The pinnacle of my disease.
I can only say to Him,
When You first traversed the garden,
And You noticed me,
When I refused to die,
You watered me,
"Remember my efforts,
Remember them,
Please."
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Comments
Youssef an incredible write. Such a sad story and emotion transformed into an epic and wonderful tale of battle. adversity and an amazing will. A beautiful piece. 5*s and nomination from me, loved it:)
Thank you so much Rachel :) I appreciate your words and the rating and nomination :)
Powerfull verse which never loses its way. Congrats. on a great write. Favorited
Thank you Paul :), I'm glad it spoke to you, and thanks for adding it to your favorites.
And if anyone is wondering, the beginning describes me as someone who doesn't know God, and thinks life is worthless, and isn't afraid to die. Then, I find God, I find meaning, and God saves me through Jesus, (the reason the rose is colored crimson red stands for the blood shed by Christ.) Then the thorn that pokes me, that is the suicide of my brother which distanced me from God, and finally I am here, trying to restart and come back... That's why the title is what it is, if anyone wondered...
On a poem like this Youssef it is always insightful to be given the background, it sheds new light on it when you read it again! Thanks :)
Youssef,
Very inspiring poem of brotherly love and the bond in life, as well as after..Very well written poem of feelings of trust lost but courageously, allowed to open oneself up again, to the reason why all things has a place in time and a meaning for its presentation, even if it takes a part us away,that we value as much, as our own existence,(such as our loved ones, in order to rekindle and retained, something we lost in ourselves, a long time ago......Keep the faith..Even when it seems we are all alone, in our darkest hours, is when we find that, we were never alone at all and that the little voice we call our conscious, is really the (Gardener), that you speak of, is allowing you to take that first step to (self) healing, whereby breaking the ground, that has consumed you for so long and then and then only, can you, allow him, to allow you, to once, take root and again be (whole).....My lines of interest are as follows.....
There is the power to proceed.
Also in every instant,
There lurks within me,
The pinnacle of my disease.
I can only say to Him,
When You first traversed the garden,
And You noticed me,
When I refused to die,
You watered me,
"Remember my efforts,
Remember them,
Please."
Wonderful but very sad poem and my condolences too your brother, in this poem..
Jim
Your welcome Rachel, I'm glad that it she'd new light :) , and Jim, thank you for the detailed comment, and for the words of hope. I will keep the faith. Even if only because life without faith, without God, is so dark... I will take that first step, again, towards becoming whole, again. Thanks Jim
You are more than welcome Youssef...Thank you for such a in-depth sincere poem, to your readers..Much enjoyed.
Jim
John Desilentio,
Irrespective of the subject or content of this poem, I should highlight on the moral side by which the Poet is focusing on the style of scribbling which is novel and distinct. My applause. The best lines which I prefer to pick and rewind are as below:
" I am a burning candle,
But the wax smothers the flame,
And it is being snuffed out inside of me,
In a decisive agony,
Like a suicide, "
When the poet stresses " I am a burning candle " , this single line reveals the pain and agony reflected deeply in this poem. Here the candle represents a strong symbol of self elimination in life. Great work. Congrats.
Between the lines: A suicide effort is a clear warning that something is seriously wrong in a person’s life. No matter the race or age of the person; how rich or poor they are, it is true that most people who commit suicide have a psychological or emotional disorder. No single therapeutic approach is suitable for all suicidal persons or suicidal tendencies. The most common ways to treat underlying illnesses associated with suicide are with medication, talk therapy or a combination of the two.
The poet has performed in his writing the theme in a beautiful way. Congrats Again, dear Poet.
Regards & Love
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
Thank you so much Williamsji Maveli, I am glad that you gave such an in depth review of my poem, it is for the people like you who simmer on a though, that I write for. Thank you. Also, I have changed my name on the site because of a challenge I have with someone here, from Youssef, my real name, to John DeSilentio, taken from Johannes DeSilentio, a psuedonym of the existentialist philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard. The name simply means, John, The Silent. It is my psuedonym, for the time being
great write congrats x