With Death in Hand
5.9.08

with death in hand I climb
to the top of the highest mountaintop
set up camp in a place called Unknown Territory
kindle a fire, dancing in heated ecstasy
and stare out to the dying coals of a sunset
below me stand the rest of this imperfect world
that beg to me, whine to me that I should
embrace them, even as I stand up here all alone

with death in hand I close my eyes
to feel a flutterby’s breeze rustle
through my unkempt hair
it whispers, whispers, whispers—urging me
follow the wind, dar(k)ling; and fall with graceful wings
… it’s worth it, darling. worth it.
you are worth it
and from below the people call to me to embrace them
though they are unwilling to meet me halfway down

with death in hand I ((and)) jump
and leave the people all behind
to take my leap of faith,
hoping I won’t be left so alone anymore
I land in a mangled mess of rocks—
upon closer inspection, they are the tatters of my heart

to my side I gaze and drink in Death’s ashen pallor
he came to greet me… like no other has
and finally (for once) I smile and whisper to him
it’s you that I embrace

Read the underlined words by themselves.

Author's note: This poem is about suicide, really. People always tell me that I should be normal, that I should "embrace" them just as everyone else in the world does. But I'm so far from them, and they don't try to reach me, to help me. Instead, they keep telling me, "You need to come back and be normal," but never tell me how or care enough to come help me. So I kill myself and turn to see Death standing beside me... the only one who ever came to me instead of expecting me to go to him.

By the way, this isn't a personal poem. The reason I said "I" in the explanation is because I was in no mood to keep writing "the narrator" over and over. But I'm not contemplating suicide, and I'm not in a morbid mood right now. In fact, when I wrote this I was in a tranquil mood--peaceful.