Life less

My daughter won’t pick up the phone

I worry, aware that she’s alone.

That’s one of her worst fears

Told to me often over the years

Is she OK? I’m on my way

Going, not knowing what I’ll find

Anxious about her state of mind

Replaying shouts of ‘I want to die’

Hoping she’s still too scared to try.

I arrive, and phone, but it’s just as before

No answer. I breakdown the door

Half-naked, comatose, lying in bed

All kinds of thoughts race through my head

I shout and shake her, trying to wake her

In the room, cans and pills lie around

I call paramedics describe what I found

Within minutes they arrive

Stay till they establish she’ll survive

Then leave and now it’s up to me

Watching, waiting patiently…

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