A poem inspired by true events...
I all alone bemoan my fate,
as one who sinks too low again
into despair which hurts his state.
Disconsolate beyond midnight,
I trouble dear God with my cries
as I bear this bipolar plight
with burning, red, tear-laden eyes.
The night is long — I am distraught;
I long for rest to help forget
this sorrow’s trap which has me wrought
like passengers in a crashing jet!
Inside, I feel the Reaper’s scythe
as I think out my suicide:
a razor or a kitchen knife,
or pills to end this terrible “ride”?
Or, like Sylvia Plath, I can
shove my head in a gas oven;
it’d be painless — sure! (But why plan
a death so trite and pedestrian?)
I think, too, of Virginia Woolf,
how she drowned herself in a lake;
I, too, feel swallowed in a gulf
of swirling despair that could take
me to my death! Why do I feel
so unloved and alone now? Am
I so hopeless? Why do I feel
so empty and worthless? How am
I to know — (that) if I kill myself —
whether my loved ones won’t miss me?
“Don’t do it!” I think: so I will myself
to live (as if the saints graced me)!
So, I then find solace in this:
that family and God do care,
and if I had died I would be missed;
so I resist the deep despair.
And then, Hope comes. And I feel peace…
And in the morn, I wake arising —
Joy breaks in, and I receive new lease.
And then my state I cease despising!
Poetry by Ngoc Nguyen
Read 788 times
Written on 2018-05-29 at 11:57
Tags Hope Despair Bio
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Lines of Despair Transformed into Hope
When fraught with gloom and mental pain,I all alone bemoan my fate,
as one who sinks too low again
into despair which hurts his state.
Disconsolate beyond midnight,
I trouble dear God with my cries
as I bear this bipolar plight
with burning, red, tear-laden eyes.
The night is long — I am distraught;
I long for rest to help forget
this sorrow’s trap which has me wrought
like passengers in a crashing jet!
Inside, I feel the Reaper’s scythe
as I think out my suicide:
a razor or a kitchen knife,
or pills to end this terrible “ride”?
Or, like Sylvia Plath, I can
shove my head in a gas oven;
it’d be painless — sure! (But why plan
a death so trite and pedestrian?)
I think, too, of Virginia Woolf,
how she drowned herself in a lake;
I, too, feel swallowed in a gulf
of swirling despair that could take
me to my death! Why do I feel
so unloved and alone now? Am
I so hopeless? Why do I feel
so empty and worthless? How am
I to know — (that) if I kill myself —
whether my loved ones won’t miss me?
“Don’t do it!” I think: so I will myself
to live (as if the saints graced me)!
So, I then find solace in this:
that family and God do care,
and if I had died I would be missed;
so I resist the deep despair.
And then, Hope comes. And I feel peace…
And in the morn, I wake arising —
Joy breaks in, and I receive new lease.
And then my state I cease despising!
Poetry by Ngoc Nguyen
Read 788 times
Written on 2018-05-29 at 11:57
Tags Hope Despair Bio
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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