Voices

Inspiration Station

Voices: (1989)

He listened to the voices of his ancestors, they said.

When they told him “leave the living, walk with us among the dead.”

He listened to the voices that were screaming in his head –

He listened to the voices, then he followed where they led.

They led him to a tree that grew alone upon a hill –

Looking down on a village that was quiet and was still.

He finished off the bottle that he’d brought for company…

Then he took a rope and tied it ‘round a high limb on the tree.

He stacked some stones beneath it, stepping up, he took the noose –

Wrapped it ‘round his neck, securely – then he kicked the top stone loose.

It was I, the one who found him – called for help to cut him down.

I remember all his family, in that ancient Hopi town.

His brother screamed – His father cried – His mother sang a lullabye,

If you hear the voices calling, do not listen – do not hear!

Do not answer to their calling, think of those who need you here.

Think of those who you are leaving, all the ones who care for you…

Is it worth the pain they’ll suffer? Will your brother do it, too?

When my sister Audrey, her husband Gary ( since deceased) and our mom, Edna, lived on the Hopi Reservation in Moencopi, Arizona, Audrey made the heartbreaking discovery one day of a young American Indian who had hanged himself from the tree there on the grounds of the Mennonite Mission where they lived. I have heard there is a high rate of suicide among Indian youth. My daughter also lost a very close friend by suicide. The pain experienced by those left behind is heart-wrenching. Our hearts go out to anyone who has been through it and I encourage anyone reading this with similar notions, this act is devastating and life altering to families. Please seek help. Song playing was written about Vincent Van Gogh, the artist, who also took his own life.

The thrill in finding after-life –

Of learning hidden knowledge…

I know it all, now.

Where are my ancestors now?

They called for me to join them in the Grand Canyon.

There, we will live forever.

Now, as I walk through the shadows of death –

Where are they, now? I can’t find them.

The thrill of taking a life –

It is my own, and I decide… I choose my place and time.

My dog follows me

To the tree where I will end my life.

He waits for his master… an obedient, good dog.

What does he know, now?

I take my shirt and tie it to an upper branch.

I step up on a stone, as I wind the shirt around my neck.

My dog whines, as he looks at me, puzzled.

I say goodbye, as I kick the stone away.

Now, I’m walking through the shadows –

And I’m still looking for my ancestors.

I’m still listening for the voices that spoke to me.

Where are they, now? I can’t hear them.

And what of the one who finds me? Too late.

Did she really think that she could help?

Now, she just stares at me in shock –

Tears falls down her cheeks. She sees my dog –

Are the tears for him? Or, are they for me?

What of my family?

My little brother is screaming –

Perhaps, he will join me soon.

My father has another drink… for me.

My mother aged twenty years, today.

She remembers the baby she nursed,

Not that many years ago.

She remembers scratched knees,

And tears wiped away.

She remembers when I became a man… Initiation.

She considers the bottle – and the price paid

In life’s red blood.

She weeps.