Courage

(Abridged, from OtherWorld Soul Poetry, The Long, the Dark, and the Unsuitable. A dark poem portraying suicide)

Courage

Out of jealousy and pain,

I’ve crafted this knife;

with the anger of unfairness,

I’ve formed this bronze blade!

To pierce through my skull

and release the battered spirit inside,

I’ve fashioned it.

Bleed out this life which kills me.

Bleed out this love which hates me.

Bleed out these dreams which have denied me.

Bleed out, oh cruel existence;

abandon my veins

and let my eyes run out.

Crack, once and finally,

the crumbling tower of my heart!

Send a surge to destroy it.

Empty out the functions of my mind which wake me,

the things which stir me in the morning from

my rest of non-existence.

Rid me of this beating heart!

Mine own heart, which hast betrayed me

with much hope and many dreams!

Let my ears fall deaf

to the growing silence of my life.

In the ground, let me rest.

Lay me there

and don’t protest.

I quite like it here,

beneath the sod,

for I am used to being trod.

Do not deny my existence of its purpose,

but forget me.

Leave me behind and let the trail of your feet

carve a path away from my grave.

When people see my stone,

they’ll ask with tears in eye,

“Who lays here and what was their doing in life?”

So let it be inscribed:

“Here lies one who has been the ground and now joins it,

whose purpose was to wipe the feet of those who would, one day, be great.

Here lies a dreamer, whose many dreams existed only to be shattered as her heart has been.”

Then they will move on and wipe their cheeks,

for they will not care,

and their eyes will search for a more noble grave to mourn,

one of soldiers or princes or of those who

loved and were loved.

I will be nowhere to be found in their thoughts

nor considerations.

From my heart, I gave of love;

free love, rented love,

but from so much build-up,

the little cart which held it, crumbled beneath

the weight of its undesirable fares.

For my love had no resting place

to call its own.

Remove from me

mine self

and, in doing so,

remove from me mine enemy.

My presence is but compacted breath in a room.

My thoughts are no more than foolish dreams.

In my effort to give what I had,

my brow would sweat,

yet now I sweat blood.

Oh, sweet relief!

Could even just this one dream

finally carry through?

Can I now leave the arms of this consuming fire, Hope?

Hope which has burned me with its false intrigues?

Can I now flee to run and hide from all the pain

I keep inside?

Alas! Glorious day!

Oh, dirt, enrobe me;

envelope my still chest!

Celebrate, with eternal embrace,

my final departure from earth.

And oh, my will finally suited me

and emblazoned this sheath of my sword!

Inscribed on such case is written:

“Life”,

for, it is he who held the sorrows which would pierce me.

On the blade was engraved, with careful, steady hand:

“Dreams”,

for, it was mine own desires which betrayed me.

And alas!

Upon the hilt of my carefully fashioned dagger,

I scrawled:

“Courage”,

for, it was when I finally took hold of courage that I could wield such vessel of sweet release

and walk away from all these things

which, for all my life,

have haunted me.