Tuesday, 12 July 2016

The Call (July 11, 2016)

A soul drowning
In psychic tears
To consume all
Body and soul.

Desperate wail
Of a fire engine's siren
Scream by.

Able to keep afloat
As "arms" grow weaker
By the second.

Rushing off
To an emergency call
That's life and death
For someone.

Of surrendering
Grow stronger
To the tears.

Trucks weaves
In and out
Of the holiday traffic.

Gathering darkness
Closes in
One last time
The final silence.

Practiced precision
They stormed up
The apartment stairs
In their mercy quest.

Distance voices
Are heard
They fade away

Loud crash
The door's opening.

The Angel of Death
As She claims
Her latest companion.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: The wail of fire engine's siren, past the cyber-cafe, on July 1st, was the inspiration for this dark poem. By the time, I had walked home, the first two stanza were already written, in my head. The rest of the poem would take 10 days, to complete. 

It's true, I suffer from chronic depression that claims me, for several months, throughout the year, I'm not actively suicidal, in seeking my death. Although, i do entertain thoughts of not awaking up, from the previous night sleep. Each morning that I do wake up, a sense of sadness, fills me, in having survived another night, and to having to face another day, as a result.

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