How does one look a suicide in the face?
I often flinch,
I am not sure what to tell her, she demands an answer,
but, I dare not say the possibilities,
yet hope I say and hope I believe
but yet hope contains a possibility
a terrifying reality that we dare not speak,
few dare to recognize
it becomes a kind of dance
in which language moves around the delicate
dark thought, the one that breaks the heart
Are we meant to ponder such things?
Certainly not, it is as uncomfortable as nails.