A.W., Vienna, USA
What is the root of the suicide epidemic in our generation?
A.W.
AW:
Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note
(for Kellie Jones, born 16 May 1959)
Lately, I’ve become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus…Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars,
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night, I tiptoed up
To my daughter’s room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there…
Only she on her knees, peeking intoHer own clasped hands.
-Amiri Baraka
