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 2023
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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


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.

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