Saturday, March 10, 2012

No Life to Regret

There is nothing to do now.  Nothing.  Listen, do you hear the cormorants calling?  Do you hear the bellow of the fog horn as the fog clears away revealing the stars?  I hear it all.  It is fading.

Look at the ravens-- a pair of living beings just like you and I, mated for life.  They do not regret like you do.  I do not regret.  Soon there will be none of those feelings left for me to convey.  Look at you, you are crying above me, holding your pen and paper, thinking about your regretful letter and how to start it.  But you do not know what to write, for suicide is what you intend, and how can one put it into words, right?

Look at the ravens.  They place their beaks together.  Why will you not do the same with me?  You and I are still living, aren't we?  Even if I only have a few minutes of breath to spare, we are still living, aren't we?

Look at the ravens.  One of them flies away.  I know that I must fly away from you forever, but you will still live for me, right?  Why do you sit in your dark bedroom with a knife?

Look at the ravens.  Now there is only one now.  I am long gone from life.  But you are taking the knife, ready to thrust, with your tears salty and your eyes black and drained.  Why do you hold that knife?  Don't you hear the cormorants calling, the fog horn bellowing?  Your crying matches its tone.

Your mother will run into your room the next day to find you dead.  She will blame herself for everything.  Then your peers will find out.  They will blame themselves as well.  The world will be infected by emotion, and it will spread so violently.  Will you not look at the raven?

Look at you now, you are finally putting down the knife.  Your tears are deceased and you are sighing deeply.  I am so proud of you.  I know I cannot be there to show it, but I am long gone, but I wish you to live on.  So look at the raven.  And look, there are many ravens filling the sky.  You are not alone.

3 comments:

  1. Sydlicous you are a genius and my favorite rock star. I actually had to look up the word cormorants in the dictionary (so much to learn). Please tell me who or what is represented buy the suicide victim. Is it a metaphor for great loss? Jenny

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  2. This is simply a story-poem for the sake of writing, not really anything real-life. :)
    -Raven

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  3. Oh my gosh. This poem made me want to cry! It was so sad but filled with truth that can grab my arteries and squeeze the blood out of them if they grew hands and sharp knife-like claws. It gave me chills and such horror to realize the narrator was dead, wishing his/her friend was still alive. Wow. Just wow.

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