This poem (my attempt at a villanelle) is a re-post. I wrote it eighteen months ago for someone. I can’t write new words for fear of being nonsensical. My life has been touched by suicide. Just let me say this – if you’re in trouble, please reach out for help. Please.
Restitution
Don’t open another bottle tonight,
you have not eaten, stay your hand,
the shadows cast long, but there is still light
and ours is to suffer the gruelling plight
between wanting and forgetting demands.
Don’t open another bottle tonight.
Never underestimate the might
required or strength of reserves to stand
the shadows cast long – but there is still light.
I will be here in spirit, if not sight.
Be at peace with your truth, you are not damned,
don’t open another bottle tonight.
Resist the ever-fevered impulse for flight
into the drink that enfolds like quicksand;
the shadows cast long, but there is still light.
Agonies are easier from a height
I know, as we scrabble upon the land.
Don’t open another bottle tonight –
the shadows cast long, but there is still light.
