Carry your zen within,
your light undenied –
not hidden, not found.
We’re the same. You. Me.

Leave your sin. Begin
now and live alive –
connected, unbound,
aware, pardoned, free.

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He gave us beauty and truth, all
we ever need to know about
love, loathing, delight, guilt, faith, doubt,
madness, and cruel lonliness.

Golden, dark-eyed, robust, and pale –
hero, villain, and mystery –
shy, brash, he compelled us to see
poignance in pain left unexpressed.

Raw and tender, animated
or still, he was a child grown old
with understanding – died asleep.
Heath was a gift we couldn’t keep.

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tortured artist

As Virginia Woolf, Nicole Kidman
rests an iridescent cheek against
cool moss to become the soft stillness
of a forestbird caught in its death.
How perfect, how wretched this notion –
suicide. It is not violence
which haunts the dark and (yes) twisted path.
The end is only tender mercy.

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Defeated by a merciless wind,
veiled in a glitter of ice flecked snow,
frozen yellow blooms can rise again
and live as if storms will never blow.

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3 birds 1 suicide

She dragged from her bed,
sagged to the kitchen.
She sighed at the cat,
then sat with her flakes.

She had a headache
(always did lately).
It just never stopped.
So (flakes flushed) she dressed.

She moved in Dad’s house
after mamma died –
left her life (friends, job)
to cook, scrub, keep up
appearances while
he played, jeered, ignored
(like Earth’s turning or
leaves falling or death’s
shocking constancy
go mostly ignored).

She started her car
inside the garage.
Relaxed she waited.
Gas and time ran out.

Mike came in the front,
dropped off after darts.
No smell of supper . . . .
(Right. No smell at all.

No reason to think
his cat might be dead
on the cool tile floor
or that his whole house
could still be filled by
lingering poison.)
Reclined he waited
watching loud TV.
His breath fell silent,
expired. The phone rang.

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Loss, failure, even smallest betrayal –
emotional blows more devastating
than bloody, deadly, hand to hand combat.
Crushes spirit – will to struggle, survive.

Lie still. Catch your breath. Crawl till you can stand.
Steel your spine. Open your heart. Unburden.
Remember your purpose. Heed what remains.
Hope renews. Faith restores. You live. You win.

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What do we know?

He tried hanging
and broke the rope.
He shot himself
in nearby woods.
He died alone.
He decided.
He finished it.
We don’t know why.
What answer soothes?
Any? None. Nil.
We can’t know why –
never know why.
He decided.
He finished it.
Not knowing why
we live with it.

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Embrace all of life,
and fear neither pain nor loss.
Make beautiful pearls.

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We ask for love – only love –
acceptance without judgment.
We judge – refuse to accept.
We break our own hearts,
hurt our own feelings
with our dreamy teary eyes.

We withhold, secrete, pretend.
We isolate our true selves.
We begin our search for love
in a stranger’s arms.
Don’t we ask too much?
We lie awake, leave early.

Don’t we dread an endless need?
Didn’t we invent Jesus
to spare us salvation’s debt?
Don’t we send dollars
and our best wishes –
easier than facing fear?

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You are not alone.
If I can make you feel that
I am not alone.

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