A poem dedicated to the little girl on December 24, 2010.
Dear Little Girl, I wish someone told me the things I know now: Your light will flicker from time to time Just don’t let it extinguish. That need to jump out of the frying pan, that urge to fly from the fire? It dissolves into drifting smoke. Don’t let anyone say you’re just angsty and anxious Yeah, they’ll call you moody. They might even say you only do things for attention. You’ll finally tell your mom in the wee morning hours. She’ll hold your hand while you confess every little detail, From stepping onto the tracks, and tiptoeing to the trestle edge And that her voice brought you back Your light waned to a char that Christmas eve morning Your smile did not reach those cheekbones Your eyes barely embers Your legs shook as you looked down That two-inch water won’t break your fall, Just your neck Your heart would break to break another Even if you wouldn’t be there to see it But your light scintillates to a blaze Some people tried to blow it out But you’re a trick candle, bouncing back For each birthday you almost skipped You find your tinder (Words) You find your spark (Voice) You find your hearth (Purpose) And then you don’t shut up. You may not be laughing now, but you will be. When you went back to the trestle, it didn’t even recognize you Smeared cinders on your face like a warrior claiming the battleground The water below hid its eyes from your devouring flames You kept going because life goes on, even when you didn’t want it to. You went on to do great things, and scribbled your signature On those tracks in victory Your light grows to a bonfire, then a forest fire, and no one, Not even you, knows how to put it out Your heart glows inside your chest And you thank yourself for building it waterproof Instead of flying away with the vapors of your former self
To read more about the event that inspired this poem, click the following link: Why I Decided Not To Kill Myself