Cast Out

“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.

Photo by Robert Eklund on Unsplash

Cast Out

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.

©Sascha Darlington

Categories: dVerse, poems

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32 replies »

  1. A powerful poem. veterans, the homeless and teens–their depression so dark and deep they can’t come up for air. A serious topic, and the irony of never escaping being an outcast is so sad. My girlfriend’s brother had mental problems. At one point it looked like he was getting better. The next morning he jumped off a freeway overpass and was hit by three cars.

    • That is so sad, but you can never tell. I’ve lost two people in my life to suicide. It sticks with you. Thank you for commenting! (I apologize for the late reply. You ended up in spam for some reason.)

  2. Separating suicides from the rest of the graves by burying them in unconsecrated ground used to be commonplace. Even now, the Roman Catholic church considers suicide to be a mortal sin. It is very sad, as is your heart-breaking poem, Sascha, with your speaker exposed and out of place ‘lying naked vulnerable under the glaring sun’ with the ‘finger casting crosses’. My favourite lines are:
    ‘For how long
    should one withstand
    tumult? Hail slicing skin?
    Words slicing mind?
    Before succumbing, glorifying
    the peaceful postulation
    of no more?’
    What on earth did she do to become so rejected that she chose to take her own life? And how terrible that she wonders if anyone cried.

    • Thank you so much, Kim. I was aware of suicide being a mortal sin but had no idea, nor really thought about it to be honest, the burial if the body, how it would be separated from others.

  3. Leaving to our imagination who is the friend who cast the final stone. Herself? Someone who betrayed her? Or Daddy’s Winchester. So moving.

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