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Description
This is about suicide survivors, resilience, and hope. *trigger warnings for suicide*
Natasha’s quote:
"I tend to picture this like a candle flame. It seems that no matter how much you blow on it, the candle insists on flickering away, no matter what. And it’s why so many people who have failed at a suicide attempt are grateful to still be here. They find their candle. It’s still lit. Even though they thought it wasn’t. … I’m not suggesting that this line of thought will help everyone. I’m suggesting that it helps me. I’m suggesting that remembering that life is bigger than the pain and that we all have the drive to survive is something that can keep you alive from day-to-day. I can’t promise it will lessen the pain, but I can say that a perspective change can keep you alive. And that matters. Because the game will change and you should be there to see it"
- Natasha Tracy
My poem transcript in case it’s difficult to read:
Candles of Hope
Let your candle burn out when your wax body melts in a slow
cascade drip
each drop blood and white cells, the
bare bones of life and lullabies, sung to
rock sleepy unfurled hands from
cradle to gravestone, grave to earth-stones-cold
burning as bright as galaxies
in sub-zero subliminal space constellations
winking paper lanterns in the sky to
lead wayfarers into hope out of black holes.
From a greying stub to waxen puddle,
from your form until your wick-ed
skeleton is no more than
charred ash.
Be Icarus - fly close and burn bright falling.
Don’t blow yourself out; mind and skull bleeding love and agonite and flesh and scar tissue across the starry night
stars piercing holes in the fabric of the universe
like bullets.
punctuation marks and ellipses
curving the nape of your neck into a question to underline the page of your unwritten testimony
for others to dog-ear and ask why
left to dot your spine with tears like so many stars, some the grief of supanovas, some the souls of dwarves
the kiss of death and an answer of not
to being.
The barrel of the gun is the shape of a candle
you are candlelight
shoot like a star across the celestial earth; body
brief and burning, beautiful chaos and pain
scarred lips were made to breathe and lungs to burn
inhale, exhale, repeat and ache. Every second, for when every second counts.
You are star stuff, seeing and knowing itself through human candelight.
For all other survivors - turn simmering, aflame to your torment, ablaze, and
raise the Fawkes;
Dumbledore’s bird lost his feathers, and rose naked and
blackened from ashes,
reborn and whole,
and grew
wings
anew.
30/04/2014</b></b>
