It’s Sunday morning as I peer out my window into the morning sky
I sense that something is off as I see crowds of people pass me by
A funeral is being held only miles away
In the distance I see a casket where a lifeless body must lay
This person was loved that I can tell
Tear streaked faces gather awaiting the sound of the church bell
This person was loved, that I can tell
There are at least 50 people whose faces all look like they’ve been through hell
I see a glimpse of a girl who is made to look her best
I realize this is the outfit she will forever wear as she’s being laid down to rest
This person was loved, that I can tell
People are telling countless stories that cause my eyes to start to swell.
Curiosity has the best of me and I start to feel brave
No one seems to notice as I head towards her grave
This girl is loved, she must be.
When I look into the grave I start to cry for now I can see. I was loved but now it’s too late because the face that stares back belongs to me
I wrote this poem for suicide awareness. Anxiety and depression affects more than half of the people who walk this earth. Suicide is something that is permanent, so there is always one thing you need to remember; you are loved!
Beautiful poem!I love the way you have conveyed this message in such a wonderful and effective way.Kudos!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is powerful and beautifully emotive-right up my street 😃💖
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m glad you liked it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
– the results of my June blog experiment are up on my blog; you’re there, check it out!
LikeLiked by 1 person
beautiful! I’m an advocate for the American Federation for Suicide Prevention and poly suicide survivor. Came across this looking for others..
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person