Warning: The following poem contains mentioning of suicidal thoughts/attempt, depression and death. Please stop, if this triggers you.
There are times
I lay in bed
Staring at
My soul’s darkest places.
Pill bottles
All lined up
Ready to open
For that blackest moment.
As wave
After wave of despair
Pulls me
Ever deeper
Into the abyss
Of no return.
Like a forgotten lover
Asking for
One last dance
Rekindling a lost love
For the final time.
As I refuse
Your need/want.
Nine years
Since our last embrace
Around the yuletide log ablaze
Upon the computer screen.
Having since dealt
With 2 prolong bouts
Of agoraphobia.
Which held me
A virtual prisoner
Within my apartment walls
For several months
At a time.
Even
My most recent
Transphobic scare
Won’t deter me
From continuing
My healing journey.
Surrendering means
You win
With your brutist nature
And hate.
Like I did
Almost 42 years ago
In the rural village
Of Erin, Ontario.
Hiding away
Within myself
Until November 15, 2005.
When I emerged
As my true self
Standing over
My dad’s grave.
On the anniversary date
Of his physical release
From mortal pain and suffering
Seven years previously.
So Death
You’ve no hold
Over me.
Having watched
My Oma (cancer)
And dad (heart attack-brain dead)
Fight you
With dignity.
Rather
It is life
I struggle with.
Therisa © 2019
Author’s note: I started writing this poem, on Easter Sunday, the first dry day of the Easter long weekend, in Toronto. Needing a way, to vent the darkness that was building up, within me. Hopefully, my last suicide attempt, occurred during the holiday season of 2010-11, when I did have several containers filled with prescription drugs, to OD on. For some reason, I couldn’t do it.
Although, should the need arise, I would choose to end my life, with the dignity of assisted death.
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