It’s so difficult, this living thing
two decades are sometimes
more than one can bear
heavy years of empty searching
lonely rambling
some scars are too deep
Even for poetry
That third decade feels
like a lifetime away
like millions of breaths away
too many years awake
Maybe a drink might help
Where is Tracy’s Fast Car
when curtains are drawn
laying on the floor
blade in my hand
the clock moves backwards
Something’s gotta give, this has to end
It’s so lonely, this living thing
one night can sometimes be
drowning
minutes of many hours
even seconds are haunting
A black hole of aloneness
Death is the final poem
********
Courtesy of the author
Link to the Italian translation
Actively involved with several (black) feminist movements in South Africa, she is interested in personal and political writing.
As she explaines in her blog, she wrote this poem after knowing about the suicide of a young and talented poet, Ayanda “Juba” Lushaba: “Many people are quick to judge suicide, calling people cowards and selfish. The truth, though, is suicide is never an easy decision, taken lightly over a glass of wine. Unless you have been suicidal, I don’t think you can truly understand what it’s like to be in such darkness and to feel so lonely that you cannot stand another breath“.
vangile writes that she herself attempted suicide several times when she was younger and that medical treatment and her inner healing process saved her.