Date: 12th February, 2019
Edited: 14th February, 2019
Written at the Writers Cafe meetup
Prompt: She wrote with red pen
WARNING: Mentions of suicide
“Dear Bro, Mum and Dad,
Emma, Rose and Chad.
It’s me, the magnificent Jen,”
Jennifer wrote in bold red pen.
“I’m writing today
‘Cuz I want to say
Something that is really quite grand,”
Continued Jen in bright red pen.
“I do understand-
Might not be a fan,
Might totally mess up your zen,”
Jen scribbled in vivid red pen.
“But I must come clean,
No lies in between.
I’m gay- I’ve known since I was ten,”
She wrote shakily in stark red pen.
“It’s because of that
I deeply regret
I’m not madly in love with Sven,”
Jen scrawled messily in red pen.
“I’m sorry I lied
But I really tried
To pray away the gay, amen,”
She cried guiltily in red pen.
You all will turn on me even,”
She wept, grieving deeply in red pen.
“I cannot face this.
I’d rather give into bliss,
Run into Death, arms wide open,”
She committed in sharp red pen.
“So goodbye to you.
Fam and friends, adieu.
Signing off, for the last time, Jen.”
Here, blood from her own red ink pen.
I clutch in my hand
The last of my friend.
Jen, I hope you will be the last
To write tragedy in red pen.
14th February, 2019
The night prior to writing this poem, I read a suicide letter written by a trans girl- she was 17 when she took her life. If you would like to read it (although, I must warn you, dear readers, it is a heavy and tragic read) you may click here. It put me in a somber mood, the kind that makes the world look gray and dark, where light could do little but illuminate the depravity of humanity just enough so that people could see just how horrible we as a species could be. It’s even more hard hitting when I have loved ones who are transgender and/or part of the LGBT community. (Not saying that trans issues are the same as those of the gay or other gender/ sexuality spectrum)
I carried those feelings through the night and into the day and into the writers cafe meetup. I’ve always used poetry as a method to deal with these thoughts and emotions, the words acting like an anchor, the rhymes and constraints acting like walls of a psych office and the act of writing, spilling feeling into reality where I can look at it and make peace with my insides. I was quite scared to share this piece to the others but I’m humbled and happy that those in attendance were respectful and appreciative of my work, the message I wished to send and my feelings embedded in the words.
I call out to those reading this far to please, stand by your loved ones and keep them close. Keep them safe. Let them know that you love them. No matter what identity they have, whether it be gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, nonbinary, pansexual… or from other various minority groups… or hell, even if they’re different from others in whatever way. If you love them, accept them. Love them. And maybe, things will get better. The world will get better. I hope that people, in the future, don’t have to feel so alone, so trapped, so hopeless, that they end their own lives.
Until next time,
The Writing Borb
PS: Thanks to Snitchcat who said my poetry reminded them of Dr. Seuss and Edgar Allan Poe. I love those two writers to pieces so being compared to them was an absolute honor.