“Cast Out” was written for dVerse where Laura Bloomsbury (Hello, Laura!) asked us to write about a deceased person (not someone we know or famous) and give a taste of their life. As I was scrolling through images of gravestones, as you do (Do you? This was my first time. haha), I came upon an Australian site where suicides were separated from the main part of the cemetery. Which is sad, isn’t it? So, this poem came. It may need more work, but here we go. Thank you, Laura!
Here is a link to the article, in case anyone wonders what archaeologists in Australia are doing to acknowledge the people who died from suicides and were buried separate from the main cemetery.
I arrived too early for this world a century or more premature feeling emotions I oughtn’t feel lying naked vulnerable under the glaring sun, glaring eyes finger casting crosses disdain heavy like still air before a bitter storm. For how long should one withstand tumult? Hail slicing skin? Words slicing mind? Before succumbing, glorifying the peaceful postulation of no more? You, my one friend, aimed the last stone, its immense impact abandoning me to my wretched torment conjuring poisons, blades, cliffs pointing Daddy’s war Winchester at my slandered soul. I wish I’d heard the “boom.” Did anyone cry? I almost touched their relief, a breeze in July’s valley. “We live free of her shadow.” Here I lie a blank headstone separate in the cemetery next to another nameless abandoned like me. Cast out in life, cast out in death.