Patrick Roche

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Every 40 Seconds

In 2014, the World Health Organization released a report stating that at least 800,000 people commit suicide every year.
That averages to 1 person every 40 seconds.
Statistically speaking by the end of this poem 4 people will have taken their lives.

1.
This is not a list poem.
This is a eulogy for those swallowed by their own minds.
This is a call to arms, a call to speak.
This is not family gatherings when I mention mental health and am told not to spoil the turkey,
That it is uncouth, impolite,
That it is better to stay silent.
This is taking that silence and breaking it with my hands, with my teeth and tongue.
This is people with mental illness banging our heads against the walls, not out of insanity but to try to make some noise, to be heard.
Too often we are ashamed, too often we are in the shadows.

2.
Suicide is not always a banshee wailing against your eardrums, it is a child playing hide-and-seek behind your friends smile.
They will not wear it openly, they cannot hold it's hand and introduce it to you, it is always invisible.
Suicide is a lonely ghost desperate to give itself playmates.
It is not a permanent solution to a temporary problem, these are so rarely temporary problems.
It is aiming for a long nights sleep after years of insomnia.
It is the seduction of safety and simplicity.
Sometimes it is careful planning;
Drafting the note,
Inspecting your apartment for beams that can support your weight.
Or it is a flip switch given the right trigger, or no trigger at all.
It is painting a target on the highway divider.
It is imaging the phone call my mother will get in the middle of a nap.
Sometimes it is sudden, it is not always arriving-

3.
At the most convenient time but the clock keeps ticking.
Every 40 seconds.
This is not a list poem.
This is the tea kettle rising to a soprano screech but you keep ignoring it to watch TV,
It keeps whistling and crying but you keep ignoring it;
How much noise do I have to make?
When we tell you we are suicidal, it is a cry for help but that's not a sign of weakness.
This is not a sign of weakness.
This is saying we're fighting and and we've been fighting with every weapon and fist we have.
We've crashed against the cliff side, broken and splintered, but we're still fighting with whatever we can.
I'm using my voice, it's all I have left.

4.
Over the years, I've written different versions of my suicide note.
On the nights I almost took my life, I always deleted or threw away the note rather than sending it or leaving it for someone, I assumed the words would just make them uncomfortable.
If I'm going to die, better to do it without all that fuss; better to do it in silence.
Hundreds of thousands of people are dying in silence and because of silence.
This is not a list poem, this is saying we can keep each other breathing.
This is speaking louder than the stigma and hoping someone will listen.

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