A Life

by Trisha Von Thun

Objects of time
here now, not tomorrow
When one is gone
filled with sorrow.

Just human lives
facing risk and chance
Victims of peculiar

A Life — one simple
body breathing
But what wondrous work
of art and weaving.

Time shortened by one’s
own hand
What perfect beauty wasted
in the final stand.

I wrote this to submit to my high school literary magazine. They rejected my lighthearted poetry, so I quickly whipped this poem up to prove I could write something that I knew they would publish just to prove a point. Sadly, this was inspired by the father of one of my friends (now my husband) who committed suicide.

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