They found her in the garden

Hanging from a tree.

No text messages this time,

“I’ve done something stupid”

Or: “I’m scared”

No late-night phone calls

Ambulances, hospital beds

Or slow recovery.


She didn’t see the point, she said

(Some years before)

If we’re all going to die, why not now?

And we’d walk along the beach

Or lean over a coffee, above the crowds

And I would try to talk her out of it.


Sometimes she was happy, like the time

We went for a walk on the downs,

And the sun was high, my arm stiff in a plaster cast

And we ended up on the ground, her on top of me

Watched (to her amusement) by a passing deer.


But sometimes I’d talk to her, and she wasn’t there

Staring instead at some conjured creations

Or listening to the hated sounds

Sitting together, but separated

As though I was here, and she – trapped in a nightmare

I wished that I could help

But some horrors we can never share.



© Copyright David Marriott  all rights reserved­.