Poetry and Prose - HOPE After Suicide Loss

Poetry & Prose

Survivors are welcome to send any poetry or prose they would like to be published on this website.

Please submit via email to office@hopeaftersuicideloss.org.uk

THE SNOWDROP

One snowdrop, struggled to seek the light
Dark winter, covered, always night
Spring awaits, above ground it’s drawn
To the light and air, clear, sharp morn

This year, alone, it pushed itself on
And persevered, the watery sun
Its reward, the battle won
O’er darkest earth, and light to come

Just for now alone it grows
Twelve months hence a group will show
No longer will it single stand
But share its space – a snowdrop band

Not now alone, for others came
And at first glance they’re all the same
But each’s place is quite unique
And together they have found their niche

I am a survivor of suicide loss, a zebra among horses; distinct from those who have lost a loved one by other means. I feel separated from the herd, corralled by such loss.

I do not grieve the same as you. My challenges are very different. I cannot respond to things as you do, and nothing anyone can do or say can remove this pain from my heart or the questions from my mind. My grieving process is complicated, it has added stripes.

I am a zebra among horses. I may appear to be like you, but inside the differences are as marked as the stripes that distinguish a zebra from a horse. This knowledge that I am different wears on me like a heavy, ill-fitting saddle.

I am a zebra among horses; I am like you, yet not like you.

Glenn’s Poem

A walk in the black forest
Travelled deep into chaos
Far, far from the path
Did you find your way home?

Written by a young man diagnosed with bi-polar and found under his bed after he was taken to hospital following an overdose………..

If you ever knew the feelings that I have you would know why I am going to do this thing

I cry internally all the time but I am unable to do so physically

My world is not yours but one of fear and sadness

Which will never go away …….never

I wish this had never been given to me but it has

I see no other way

Darkness falls upon the light

Day becomes a week then another year

Who wants this, not me, not you

They all shout and scream ‘come on, why this and not that’

I prefer that don’t you?

Who are you any way

Try to Understand

Imagine only feeling anxiety and pain
You go to sleep hoping, but you wake and it is there again.
Monday to Sunday, week after week
You look for positivity but all around you is bleak.

Your family and friends tell you time after time,
Try not to worry, things will be fine.
You see them, you hear it, but it doesn’t sink in.
It’s as if your heart is made out of tin.

Only you know the force of the torment you are feeling
Your anguish, your fear, your hands always reeling.
You yearn to laugh, to cry, to feel some emotion
When all you can see is your world in commotion.

You didn’t choose to die, you chose to set yourself free
You are now in a world free of pain, free of anxiety.
You are not gone, in our hearts you stand strong
As we tell your story with smiles and laughter, your memory will live on.

Natalie Moss

A DIFFERENT KIND OF BEREAVEMENT

We are bereaved by suicide
“How awful” people say
“I lost my Mum to cancer” or
“My Granddad passed away”

“My darling son went off to war
A bullet took his life”
“A motorcyclist killed my girl
The shock near killed my wife”

So why is our grief different?
Why can’t we just pull through?
We mourn our loved ones just as much
But we have burdens too

Your loved one didn’t want to go
In that they had a voice
But we are haunted by the thought
Our loved one had a choice

You can’t imagine what it’s like
To be where we have been
For many of us had the shock
Of first upon the scene

That picture’s burned into our minds
And it can’t be erased
It haunts us still, at any time
Unbidden, any place

We all would like to change the past
And most did what they could
But we are wracked with heavy guilt
O’er things we think “we should”

We should have been there earlier
We should have known their mind
We should have sought professional help
We should have been more kind

We should have ‘phoned more often
We should have understood
We should have seen it coming
But we all did what we could
So that is how we’re different
We’re coping, best we can
We’re rarely given peace of mind
Please try to understand

©A M Maxwell