He jumped in front of a train that night.
Yes, he jumped in front of a
slow, moving, train.
Filling the air with the sound of a garbage bag full of fallen leaves,
exploding as it is jumped upon.
I wanted to tell him,
No, there is more to life than the ugly scars humanity
has sowed upon the back of this place called home.
There is more than the shout of
anger, pain and sadness
coming from a child,
as he, as she,
is being explored with hands inscribed with skin folds,
which hold the “wisdom” that comes with time.
Yes the grumblings of a stomach makes your heart ache.
Yes the rubbing of a stranger’s hand over dying embers tug at your tears,
but you cannot just opt out of this place.
The scars of humanity have blossomed into red poppies,
dusted with the pollen of hate, resentment and judgment.
has grown into a man, a woman,
mentally incapable to touch, to be touched.
Suffering in silence as memories of their childhood wash over them,
searing hot like metal rods being molded into their dictated shape.
No, you cannot just opt out of life.
You cannot just jump in front of a train and let me, let us,
wash the truth you have seen from the face of this earth.
I do not want to see the glistening black metal covered in you.
I do not want to see the truth you discovered, oh so ungracefully, spread all over the train.
I do not want to see you gone at all.
There is more to life than the sadness, discontempt,
you feel, hear and see.
So do not opt out of life.
Do not opt out of life.