Suicide –
Homicidal
isolation,
That wears
the branches of the heart.
Ixtab keeps
tabs,
On the
chambers of the dark.
An idea, a
knot
When the
world shuts on the breath.
Drags you
into seas,
Promising
more: Sleep –
Hibernation
–
It said
they would weep no more.
Yaxche
Tree.
Or
Aokigahara,
The places
where suicide freeze –
Peering
out,
From the
cusp of a funnel,
That
trickles into dark waters.
Breath
clasped on scars,
A wheeze, a
cry.
Now, here
is the rest.
A green
door,
An ancient
promise.
If
possible,
I hope
these words funnel through.
This pallet
is for you.
This love
is for you,
These words
are for you.
If you
can’t find them,
We’ll bring
them to you.
Make our
own legends.
Write our
own myths.
The
branches of my heart reach out.
Spreading
love to all.
Tale of Compassion by Christian Gould
