I never knew their names but yesterday, as I sat in the early chill outside, i enjoyed the company of Blue, Yellow, Green, Black, Grey and Orange birds as they chirpily accepted wriggly worms from the mud of overnight storms. It sent me to a happy mood which was interrupted by finding this poor fellow, discarded by nature before he or she could fly through Life.
The fall from the tree made me think of suicide and how little we know about it in Knysna. We even call that cold, Winter period after the Oyster Festival ‘The Suicide Months’ but on the rare occasion, someone mentions death that way it’s normally in hushed tones.
Suicide may be choice (self-choice being something I more often than not respect in adults) but that doesn’t always make it a good decision.
I’m unsure if my melancholy shared this with you before (i probably did), something I scribbled long ago after I visited a cousin, her depression and her bandaged wrists in a hospital. She eventually met a wonderful man who accepted her for who she was. Together with their baby, she took the upper hand against the awful demons from her past.
Doctor said that you might hurt yourself
so when I laid eyes on you,
you lay on a white bed
in a white room
Your ghosts sat on your pillow,
and stabbing needles into your head
I wanted to offer a word of comfort
for you were as beautiful and insignificant
as an abandoned raindrop on a window
Instead, I said that it was cold outside
You replied, inside to…
Where is Suicide at in Knysna? Is there anyone who has done a study or can point me to more information?