Paula

I know a girl

Whose smile makes a visible curl

At both sides

Upwards in two arcs to the corners of her eyes.

Devious, mischievous, two gleaming globes

Promising trouble.

She’s trouble itself; wild, face wide,

With laughter and inside jokes

Untold.

She lives a vicious life and loves with a vicious love

Passionately

Untamed

Unruly

Her thoughts obscure until the moment she tells you truly

How she feels.

Rare.

It’s real.

Her mind is shadowed

Her head is bowed

She can’t cope; she doesn’t recognise this thing called ‘hope’

Every day bringing her closer

To the destruction she’s racing towards

She can’t turn back, powerless, the voices urging her forwards

And she’s picking up speed

Not a sign of the help she needs

The chip is pulsing, the voices are shrieking

And she’s creaking

Cracked

Broken

Now her actions are merely a token

Effort;

A play-act of the life she lead

Her words from the practised script inside her head

Until they're almost lost;

She's almost lost.

She’s a dreamer but her dreams are turning sour

Every day the voices getting louder

Her unspoken pain pulsing poison with each beat of her failing heart

No way out; can’t make a fresh start

She’s been pushed too far and pulled too tight.

She’s breaking she’s breaking she’s breaking she’s breaking

God, Buddha, Allah, help her she’s breaking!

Why does no one see that her eyes are dark?

Because surviving isn’t living

And no one saw that she no longer had a wing

To fly on.

 

I knew a girl and she was beautiful.

She was kindness and grace; my smile automatic at the sight of her face.

Perhaps some people feel too much and love too hard for this cold world

And as her hand uncurled

From its grip on this life

Releasing her from the noise and clamour that never offered her relief

A light went out.

While we, left behind, feel only grief

For the girl with the curling smile and bright eyes

Above us now a star in the skies.

Her soul can fly, no longer fighting back the tear from her eye.

 

She is gone

And we are bereft, the memories the only thing we have left.

Thanks for the memories

Thanks for the memories

 

 

This is a poem for Paula, one of the funniest and most fun people I have known.

It's also for anyone else who has been a victim of suicide and those who loved them that are left behind. All we can know is that their suffering is over; all we can do is stay living, stay loving, stay laughing and hope that one day, in some form or another, we will see them again.

 

 

If you know or suspect anyone of being suicidal, please do not stay silent. Speak to them, encourage them to seek help, let them know they are not alone. If you have tried to help but they have chosen to end their life regardless, know that there is nothing more you could have done and that some are just not meant for this world. Let go of any guilt. Honour their memory. Honour the bond and the love you shared. You may never be completely whole again, but you have a life to live too, and it's worth living. We owe it to them to live.

Paula, I have no more words. Just that I miss you, and will miss you.

Reach out to me, comment or email if there is anything you feel compelled to say or ask. As always, I'll help in any way I can.

All of my love, from all the edges of the world and beyond,

Namasté,

Clodagh

Clodagh Ní Fhaoláin

Yogipreneur - proud mama to Yogilateral

Hard lover, deep thinker, heavy lifter

Empath

INFJ 

 

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