Scrabble and Binxy would like to share with you a poem.
This poem, he tells me, was written shortly after he met a man who was thinking of suicide. Whether, if the man committed suicide, he does not know.
Reaching Out to a Stranger
I hope it’s not too late – I don’t mean to hesitate.
Before I could say hello, he’d say good-bye and fled.
He had a job do. Was that our final clue?
“I’m on my way to Heaven,” he said, “a place I want to be.”
Words spoken sans joy or glee caused fear to rise in me.
“God’s not ready for you. Your destiny, you’ve yet to fulfill.”
Death is not the answer to any of your ills.
Too slow to act, not time to explain,
Thoughts unspoken for I didn’t know his name.
So, why did I feel an impending loss?
How did I feel a total stranger’s pain?
Doesn’t he have someone who care,
A friend to make him understand.
Heaven accepts you, only if you’re chosen,
That choice is not yours to make!
Yours is not whether to live, but how.
And, if you believe in Gods
How can you but live for them?
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