I've been looking at death certificates associated with my ancestors. My g. grandfather sadly took his own life (whilst the balance of his mind was disturbed, according to his death certificate), due to ill health. I found I had written a poem, and whilst it's not the right day, I will remember him by sharing it with you.
The tide sucks at the river, making boats lurch and sway,
Eddying round the ladder clamped to the stone wall,
Reflecting the moon like Van Gogh's Starry Night,
Ripping the stars to shreds in the current
As it argues its way down the leat,
Spreading like a silent scream of watery echoes,
Edging busily up the brickwork, lifting the tangles
Of seaweed like a mermaid's tresses.
Combing them with salty fingers and leaving them to float
It beckons to the silhouette on the footpath,
Writing his name in immortality, promising
A future where there can be none. Weak flatterings and
Blandishments it makes to him, cajoling, enticing,
Coaxing movement from that lonely figure,
Offering one last embrace, no questions asked.
Heddwch i'w Lwch. Peace to his dust - suggested as a totally fitting tribute, many thanks gz.
G. Grandad - never forgotten.