August

“So why do we insist
He has vanished, that death ran off with our
Everything worth having? Why not that he was
Swimming only through this life--his slow,
Graceful crawl, shoulders rippling,

Legs slicing away at the waves, gliding
Further into what life itself denies?
He is only gone so far as we can tell. Though
When I try, I see the white cloud of his hair
In the distance like an eternity.”
― Tracy K. Smith, Life on Mars: Poems

“Sometimes there are no signs. That’s what he told the newly grieving parents at the Tuesday night group. He told them there was research to suggest that teenage suicide was often the consequence of an impulsive decision.”
― Liane Moriarty, Nine Perfect Strangers

“For her, the smell of cigarettes smelled like love. She dated far too many smokers for this reason.”
― Liane Moriarty, Nine Perfect Strangers

“I didn't want to wait on my knees
In a room made quiet by waiting.

A room where we'd listen for the rise
Of breath, the burble in his throat.

I didn't want the orchids or the trays
Of food meant to fortify that silence,

Or to pray for him to stay or to go then
Finally toward that ecstatic light.

I didn't want to believe
What we believe in those rooms:

That we are blessed, letting go,
Letting someone, anyone,

Drag open the drapes and heave us
Back into our blinding, bright lives.”
― Tracy K. Smith, Life on Mars: Poems