Make Not A Virtue Of Suicide (A Riff) Poem by David McLansky

Make not a virtue of suicide
The pain of life is something to be borne,
It can be blunted, desperately denied
Even on The Cross when shorn of pride;

I remember kneeling, bowed by pain
One Chistmas Eve when you showed your spite;
Our children joined in as if it were a game,
Your boyfriend called to celebrate that night;

My body shuddered, rocked by your disdain,
Your mockery drove me from the room,
One Son joined me, witness to my shame,
I was a Father disparaged and entombed;

But I survived, my faith almost abjured,
Saved by an innocent who offered quiet cure,
There came that knock and whisper at my door
And once again my sanity was restored.

In our darkest moments love can offer faith
To remind us love once more will come again
Even when its borne by just a waif
Even on The Cross Christ still reigns.