thin red line
I wrote this for SingPoWriMo 2016 (the local variant of NaPoWriMo), and was posted at my other blog. The poem is inspired by a news report on depression, on an actual case where a widow wanted to jump from her block of flats, and her mother-in-law talked her out of it.
image by dsnake1, done with Sketchpad 4.0
thin red line
Sanity and madness, life and death, is just divided by a razor cut. Or a thin red line, and that is why, tied between her wrist and that of her young child, is a thin red thread. Standing at the rooftop of her apartment block, with the rapidly sinking sun, the dark clouds do look so much closer. As the wind slips around her hair, her legs, she takes a step forward towards the edge, her hand tightly holding her child's, the blackbirds watching, squabbling. The ground below is a dark abyss and the lights of the city are just mocking eyes. And then a soft voice, so close, so helpless.
mommy, i am cold.
And all the fears and hatred and pity fly off into the night, as she holds her child, feeling her warmth and she cries it all out and the child puts her hands on the mother's cheeks, and she cries some more, and more.
She tears off the red thread binding them, then, like a lotus growing out of mud, holding her child's hand, she walks back down the stairs, back to their home, as the stars start to twinkle in the sky above.
candlelight -
her face
brightens
05/04/2016
**********
“I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed but all I could do was to get drunk again.”
― Charles Bukowski
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018
thin red line
Sanity and madness, life and death, is just divided by a razor cut. Or a thin red line, and that is why, tied between her wrist and that of her young child, is a thin red thread. Standing at the rooftop of her apartment block, with the rapidly sinking sun, the dark clouds do look so much closer. As the wind slips around her hair, her legs, she takes a step forward towards the edge, her hand tightly holding her child's, the blackbirds watching, squabbling. The ground below is a dark abyss and the lights of the city are just mocking eyes. And then a soft voice, so close, so helpless.
mommy, i am cold.
And all the fears and hatred and pity fly off into the night, as she holds her child, feeling her warmth and she cries it all out and the child puts her hands on the mother's cheeks, and she cries some more, and more.
She tears off the red thread binding them, then, like a lotus growing out of mud, holding her child's hand, she walks back down the stairs, back to their home, as the stars start to twinkle in the sky above.
candlelight -
her face
brightens
05/04/2016
**********
“I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed but all I could do was to get drunk again.”
― Charles Bukowski
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2018
Labels: depression, haibun, heartlands, hope, love, lovesongs, red, Singapore, suicide
posted by dsnake1 at 10:19 PM
16 Comments:
the image sets the tone perfectly for you haibun - it is both a dangerous line to cross and also the threads which connect - well done!
Somewhere I've heard that talking someone of a suicide is the easiest thing you can do... just seeing a person will make all the difference... but we are all too scared to try...
I am thankful she loved her child enough to turn away from that edge. You have painted this so clearly. I can see her and the child. There is a VERY thin line between sanity and the brain tipping over into madness. I have seen that in some people close to me. The miracle is so many of us stay grounded and steady.
All I can say is wow! The story and your poem....both so real and emotional. That opening line was also incredible.
A great story. Well penned Sir.
And, a familiar situation ending with Charles Bukowski.
ZQ
A moving and impactful haibun - brilliantly rendered. Awesome writing!
There is a thin line that separates us from depression.. from losing hope and plunging into despair. A most potent haibun.
Laura,
thanks for the visit! :)
Bjorn,
That's why we have those SOS lines, in case a suicide needs to talk to someone. we have to really go inside a suicide's mind to understand what pushes them, and yes most times we are too scared to intervene.
Sherry,
thank you. i wrote this from a news report. i won't know what her mother-in-law talked to her, but she probably save a few lives, not just one.
Donna,
thank you!
ZQ,
ah, Bukowski. familiar situation too, when i was very much younger. :)
Wendy,
thank you!
Sanaa,
it is.
thank you! :)
Very moving!
thank you, Rosemary! :)
Such despair, then hope for the child. This was beautifully written. It exemplifies the pain of the suicidal.
Thank you, Myrna. i liked to show that even in the deepest despair, there is still hope.
This heartbreaking and so well done.
thank you, Mama Zen! :)
Sad and powerful at the same time.
Greetings from London.
Hi Cuban, glad to see you! :)
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