It’s the lawlessness that takes her aback.
The devil is overworked and under loved,
Hunched over, like a character out of Dickens,
One who can’t do anything about the vast mistakes
With which this place is ridden.
People in this corner are cannibals;
Over here they are setting things on fire, ripping
Animals apart. She lost her innocence so long ago
She could have been the first one taking the apple off the tree.
Today, they call it “grooming.”
When the story spools past, will she only be judged
For the suicide? Even Hitler, in his moustache and rage,
Has his excuses, his own pathetic story.
The snake, in the bored way of all jailers,
Running his tired tread through the fruit tree, says,
Didn’t you know? Everyone’s a victim here.
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Terrific poem! I love the snake image.
I read the “Suicide” poem three times and then went back to it. Having reflected often, deeply, on the suicide of a dear and close young relative and having visited that topic, that event, many times with his mother I can only hope that she NEVER sees the poem. Where in it can I find the merciful, ever loving God who carried Home a damaged, deeply troubled beloved Child?