Saturday, April 07, 2007

"To the Young Who Want to Die," by Gwendolyn Brooks

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale.
The gun will wait. The lake will wait.
The tall gall in the small seductive vial
will wait will wait:
will wait a week: will wait through April.
You do not have to die this certain day.
Death will abide, will pamper your postponement.
I assure you death will wait. Death has
a lot of time. Death can
attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is
just down the street; is most obliging neighbor;
can meet you any moment.

You need not die today.
Stay here--through pout or pain or peskyness.
Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.

Graves grow no green that you can use.
Remember, green's your color. You are Spring.

4 comments:

  1. OMG! I love Gwendolyn Brooks....and in my busy life, I had allowed her to slip my mind. Shame on me! Thanks for posting. BTW.. My fave Brooks poem is "Lovers of the Poor"

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  2. Wow. Thank you for posting this.

    Last year, a high school classmate committed suicide. He was only 40. It hit me particularly hard because this was a guy that I had a severe crush on during my entire 7th grade year.

    He shot himself at his mother's home.

    Amazing how a well written poem can touch so deeply something we've experienced.

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  3. I know a few who died of suicide.
    wondering what would have happened if they had waited another day....
    RIP Jacques....xoxo

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    1. Yes! Brother, father, uncle. Also siblings of friends. What joy and peace they may have discovered... if only they had waited.

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