The Aftermath

Today’s edition of The Raven’s Tales is a continuation of my last poem regarding suicide. This picks up on the aftermath of the act, and tries to equate the feelings of loss, confusion and anguish that often are followed by such a sudden and unexpected death. As mortals, we understand the finality of death, and expect this to happen at the end of a long life. However, because our worries and struggles often remain in our innermost thoughts, when someone commits suicide, we struggle to comprehend the reasons as to why no help was sought beforehand. The reality of the situation is that depression takes you to the pit of despair, and some people, clouded, tormented and blinded by their depression, unfortunately never manage to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Until next time,
The Raven

The Aftermath

The Raven lands upon a tree, glancing to the streets below,
Wherein a sea of mourners continues to grow,
Within the sea lies a coffin, made of the finest wood,
Beside the coffin, at each corner, four men stood,
Lifting each corner, and solemnly resting it upon them,
As a young child places upon the coffin,a rose without a stem,
There is much wailing and chanting below,
And the anguish quietly begins to grow…

The procession enters a Gothic chapel,
Wherein a marble cherub sits holding a golden apple,
Hymnals are sung as they all slowly walk in,
To mourn the pauper who never became king,
Some guests regale them with memories of times gone by,
Whilst others without rest or cessation, continually cry,
For those tormented by anguish, no peace will be found,
Until they understand why he threw himself to the ground,
A small girl places a small photograph of the man and his child,
Her hand meekly rests on the coffin before he tears begin to run wild…

None of them will ever understand the pain the man was in,
In death he will be labelled selfish for abandoning his next of kin,
Grief turns to anger when motives are not understood,
When his absence is explained by a box made of the finest wood,
And as he’s lowered into the ground,
Silence permeates the air as muffled tears are the only sound,
The pain he was in was too much for him to hold,
And so ends a story, far too often told,
Of a young man, who never got to grow old,
Because within him, depression had taken hold,
There was no escape for him, only death,
As his loved ones now wish he uttered one more breath,
Silence is broken, The Raven’s call echoes from the days of yore,
Quoth The Raven, Nevermore…

Written by The Raven –  01/05/2016 ©


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