From a tree, your body hangs. Eyes silent and grey.
We found you there when the sun came up.
A night spent searching in vain.
Cutting the noose from around your neck, I note it’s professionally tied.
This was your plan and now you are gone,
Your soul has already drifted away.
God, tell me what I did wrong.
The crow cawed from the mountain top
A messenger to the world.
“A sensitive soul is lost”
So calmly he spreads these words.
They carried you away. Your frail hand hung from the sheet.
On your wrist you had carved your last ode,
Dried blood reading, ‘I have to go’,
Why didn’t you tell me, my silent girl so sweet?
God, tell me how I didn’t know.
I tell your friends and they weep with me.
You’ve left so much behind.
You said you needed no-one. We all needed you.
You’ll never leave our minds.
Please God, watch over my child.
Give her the peace she could not find.
Listen to her with your heart mild.
Strip the pain from her mind.
© Ashley Jenkins
Tasmanian Times Poetry Editor.
Tasmanian poets or those with a Tasmanian link are invited to send up to 5 poems which have not appeared previously in print or electronic media to:
For the complete collection, click here: Poetry, Peter Macrow