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.