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When I jumped from the bridge...
Thousands knew my name,
so even though no name
was given out in official reports,
the word went out unofficially
so that everyone who listened
to the radio station where I worked,
and others where I used to work,
and the schools where I taught,
and the teams that I coached,
and the town that I grew up in...
and those on the bridge
who saw me go,
and everyone in between...
they knew I had jumped...
but not whether I was alive.
So in the newsrooms
and on the street
and in the offices of the city,
friends and co-workers
cried and wondered
until my family desperately
called my friends to let them
know I wasn't dead, but alive.
Frozen, broken, bruised,
but alive.
In the hospital recovering,
high on morphine
(recommend it highly so to speak)
dead to the world
(only a metaphor)
they gathered around me
and really cared about whether
I lived or died, even though I
myself, me, mine didn't much care...
It's not that I wanted to die,
or that I had the courage to die,
only that I was certain
(from 20 years of manic depression)
no matter how many times proven wrong,
that I was going to die tomorrow...
certain of it...
didn't just think it but believed it,
had no doubt...
had faith...
and if you have faith,
if you are a true believer
that you are going to die tomorrow,
then you have no fear of death.
Still...not many poeple
are lucky enough to get a glimpse
of what it's like to die,
or to see the reaction to it...
...but having walked into a bar
where an ex-girlfriend
hugged me and kissed me
crying that she was so scared
when she had heard
and would never forgive me
if I had died...when she should have
hated me for hurting her
(twice now)
she cared only
for my life more than I...
...or my girlfriend at the time
who sat at my bedside
crying in relief...
only to learn
that I had jumped in anguish
over someone else
(she was rightfully the last
girlfriend I have ever had)
but still forgave me for hurting her
(twice now) ...
and wished me the best...
...and seeing my dad
who didn't approve of my behavior
walk into my hospital room
and take my hand saying
'whatever it is, whatever's
hurting you, we'll get through it.'
then proving it by standing by me
(twice now)
through even harder times...
Then I knew I was given the privilege
and was able to see
the aftermath of my death...
I knew the power of my life
and could see the ripples
it created in the universe,
although usually invisible
to all...now given to me
as a gift.
But knowledge is powerful
for a limited time,
and time goes on...
no matter how much
you feel grateful,
it's hard to fight the forces
that strive to bring you down...
You can't jump from a bridge
every day just to feel
the love of life...
but if I could...
I would.
Coach Roth
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| Comments about this poem (##Aftermath Of My Death by Coach Roth) |
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Click here to write your comments about this poem (##Aftermath Of My Death by Coach Roth)
Onelia A (6/27/2008 9:20:00 AM)
Precious experience, though neglected with time, but still precious. We sometimes need to go to extremes in order to find ourselves, to see the others, their reactions from a different angle, from distance. Good poem helping to open eyes being high and to look to the bottom, fearless... |
Abha Sharma (5/3/2008 3:26:00 AM)
and if you have faith,
if you are a true believer
that you are going to die tomorrow,
then you have no fear of death.
........the poem takes us to a journey of your life with these lines embedded.....
the flow and the conflict of life and death dealt powerfully |
Read all 6 comments >>
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