Flying

Flying –

Flying down the road, bike tires squealing,

Hair whipping behind.

Don’t let it be true.

Ditching the bike in the front yard.

Flying through the door.

It can’t be true.

Flying into the arms of my weeping dad.

“Your mother is gone,” he croaks.

We stand, holding each other in shared grief,

Bodies shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

*

My mind is flying over my last words to her.

Was it “Later, Mom,”

“I can’t wait to move out of here,”

Or “I hate you?”

All lies I have spoken.

How much time has flown by since I last told her

“I love you?”

I can’t think. I can’t breathe.

*

On my bike again,

Flying faster,

Flying farther.

If only I could escape the shame.

The trestle bridge, my sanctuary.

Beautiful vista.

Flying off it would be an easy way out,

Onto the hard ground, far below.

Flying into oblivion.

Not now.

Dad needs me.

Instead, I'll fly home.

If you or a loved one are experiencing suicidal thoughts, please seek help. You mean more to those around you than you know. Whatever you are going through, people are ready to listen if you’re willing to take that first step.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255