Suicide Prevention

He was bawling
as he crossed the line
to make it out
of October alive

as humble as a clock
with two broken hands
for whom time had stopped
beyond a dim recognition of its passage
a small whirring at his center

and nothing more

He had not planned to see November
but a single puff of wind
caught a maple tree perfectly
and moved it in a way he’d not considered
when thinking of reasons to stay 

When it swayed
a handful of red leaves
clinging to one branch end
lifted into a sunbeam
almost as a hand
might rise to bless one
in dire need of 
attention to their wounds

and while he never in general
was much given to seeing
such obvious and mundane moments
as signs
and indeed understood that nature
isn’t here for humanity in any sense
at all

he still found that rise
in the small spray of red
to be reminiscent enough
of a past dim moment of comfort
that for one moment he felt
more than the small whirring of time
in his broken movement

and thus moved
he broke down and cried
and chose
to make it through October
and at least see November arrive

to see what it might bring

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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