Dear Friend – a poem
By: Kyle Callam
With a leaden chest I must regrettably compile
The very last words that will come to define
Your very cruel and selfish last stance
And why you choose no more to dance
As to why you fled from a life of love and wealth bound
For a quick migration to the ground
If your life was so very soaked in dread
My dear friend why did you not confess!
My dear friend why did you not tell!
Against all expectations, the tarturus in which you dwelled
You should have screamed or the least, beckoned
Or wail until your shrieks had pierced the heavens
Never can I grasp why you chose not to divulge
If whilst under the weight of weights, you had chosen to be crushed
Thus dear friend, it is with an iron chest I must compile
The last words of you that will come to define
The poem conveys the heaviness of the aftermath of a suicide. As one who tried to kill himself over 1/2 century ago to escape (or so I thought) the suffering of a clinical depression, I know a suicidal person may be too far ‘gone’ to appreciate the effect on those who cared about him or her.