Beyond Reach

The minute life stops being precious….

 

A young man I was proud to call friend,

escaped life’s brutal straps.

If you’ll permit a metaphor

for such a selfish act:

He sank beneath the surface

of a sea of futile hope;

reaching the end of a line 

gone slack and threadbare.

 

We’re born to touch the sky;

yet no-one tells us how.

Some find the firmament too high

and dip below the horizon.

They call for help locked

within a soul grown cold;

each beseeching cry 

beating on unyielding walls.       

 

Holding friendship cheap,

we blame ourselves for deafness

and paucity of thought.  

Forgetting we’re fallible and human.

It’s a frailty we share

along with belief that in the teeth

of dilemma, friends will see our pain

and stop us being swallowed.

 

 

 

 

 

© franciman 2020
Views: 136
critique and comments welcome.
Subscribe
Notify of
4 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Bhi

We are born to touch the sky and beyond, each in our own way; but most are born just to survive, to leave no trace of their passing.

I savoured each line of this poem. Thanks for sharing

Ifyouplease

is this about a friend that committed suicide? if so it’s quadruply interesting and must be read many times! if so, I find it extremely inspiring.

Flag Content