inspired hope

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
suicide is a cycle of hope that begins before you were ever born.

Submitted: June 02, 2017

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Submitted: June 02, 2017

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Inspired Hope

Suicide...picture it like this,

It’s a cycle that started before you even began to exist

That night when your parents began to fight

That night when everything started being...not right.

 

Pardon me, I’m not saying your suicidal death was planned,

Quite the contrary actually…

Im saying it was created

 

Skip ahead a bit, if you will

To that first day you realized your mother was,

As said to your five year old self,

Quite ill.

 

Now, not 10 years later the tables have turned

Your father is sick

And your mother’s body was cremated; burned

This illness continues to burn

Not physically, but mentally

And this fire has taken its toll on your skin

Your once smooth, flawless body is covered in bruises and scars

And your wrist...oh your wrist, it’s as bad as your stomach and thighs

And that fire has gone out of control

And it looks like the fire will win because…

Because the clay is too far gone to mold

 

And hun, you already know it

But why doesn’t your father see what you see?

Maybe he’s too far gone...and maybe, you’re not?

 

But that can’t be right,

Because right now you are standing at the top of a bridge,

No one coming to save your life, no person in sight

But think about this…

Your father is still alive

 

 

And even though this fire that started in him

Has continued to burn,

And even though he brought to you this pain,

These scars,

These bruises,

You still love him.

 

Why?

 

Because through all of this,

Through the hazy fog of this fire-brought smoke

You remember that day,

When your family wasn’t broker than broke,

When your father held you close,

When he was the one who inspired your hope.

 

And that brings us back to the cycle

You’re still standing on the edge of that bridge

And your father’s passed out on the couch,

Beer bottle in hand, you just know it

Believe what you may darling but your mother,

Whether you wish it or not,

Is seeing all of this

And little by little her heart is becoming broker than broke

Because whether you knew it or not

You were the one who inspired her hope.

 

And there you have it,

The cycle of death, of suicide.

Maybe you don’t understand so let me point it out to you

 

Before you were even born you gave something to

Your parents

Before they ever started fighting you united them for the

Briefest of moments

Through the illness it just became stronger,

And their fire?

Your fire had been burning even longer,

And in that moment, when you jumped you finally felt what you had been giving to everyone your whole life.

 

You felt hope.

Hope that everything would be better than better.

Hope that you would stop feeling broke.

 

And suicide guys,

Death,

Is a cycle of hope.

Because when you jump off that bridge,

Make that last cut,

Step off that cliff,

Or pick up that gun,

You do it because you have hope,

Hope that things will get better.

And for you, that might be true,

But remember your father passed out on the couch?

Your best friend who started self-harming just now?

And your mother...your mother,

She’s watching and waiting

Hoping upon hope that you will come home tonight,

But motherly instinct is telling her, you won’t.

 

I hope you remember darling,

That you,

No matter how broken you are,

No matter how bruised,

And scarred,

And burned you are,

Have the power, the ability

To inspire hope.

 


© Copyright 2017 Joanna Parker. All rights reserved.

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