Writing to engage the mind and stir the heart.
First Name
Last Name
Email Address
Comments
 
Comments are Welcome
Your Contact Information is Invited, but Optional
Depression, Sorrow & Suicide
Shared Tears

§ A friendship established at a Farmer’s Market
§ A man hurting – searching for answers
§ A day when the pain became too intense – And a seven year old girl stood beside her Mother as they closed the lid on Daddy’s casket.

We live in a hurting world. I had the opportunity to pray with a lady who continues to be a special friend to this family just before she attended the funeral. Through the rest of the week I searched for resources – and wrestled with this issue in my own way, leading to the following two poems.
Shared Tears


When wounds are deeper than words can heal;
When you’ve plumbed the pit of pain;
When you can’t imagine the day will come
that you might smile again;
When you hurt with a bottomless depth of hurt,
more than you believed you could endure
and it seems like life has nothing left
and death’s the only cure;

Then let me cry with you awhile,
share aching, silent tears.
Lean on me. Accept a hug.
Let me bear some of your fears.
I can’t undo the hurt you feel
or take away your pain.
I can’t bring back what you have lost
or make you whole again.
But if I’m wise enough to silent be
and only share my tears,
t’will be greater gift than wondrous words
with wisdom of the years.


When the night has dragged a century long
but you dread the coming day.
When your tears are wrung out, stale and dry
but the pain won’t go away.
When you’re all alone in a private hell
but voices try to force an in
and you’re empty, hollow, sick and numb;
just a deadening ache within;

Then let me cry with you awhile,
share aching, silent tears.
Lean on me. Accept a hug.
Let me bear some of your fears.
I can’t undo the hurt you feel
or take away your pain.
I can’t bring back what you have lost
or make you whole again.
But if I’m wise enough to silent be
and only share my tears,
t’will be greater gift than wondrous words
with wisdom of the years.


When one you love has let you down
and you’re wounded through and through.
When they’ve gone away in a final way
and the healing’s left to you.
When your living heart from beneath your breast
has been crushed and ripped apart;
When your eyes are dry, no tears left to cry,
just a wound where you had a heart;

Then let me cry with you awhile,
share aching, silent tears.
Lean on me. Accept a hug.
Let me bear some of your fears.
I can’t undo the hurt you feel
or take away your pain.
I can’t bring back what you have lost
or make you whole again.
But if I’m wise enough to silent be
and only share my tears,
t’will be greater gift than wondrous words
with wisdom of the years.

When everyone has a word to share
and their words are prob’ly true;
But your wounds are just too deep to care
and it’s all just noise to you;
When you’re dead inside and you want to hide
but life demands you play your role;
When the Love of God is lost in a fog;
just surviving seems a hopeless goal;

Then let me cry with you awhile,
share aching, silent tears.
Lean on me. Accept a hug.
Let me bear some of your fears.
I can’t undo the hurt you feel
or take away your pain.
I can’t bring back what you have lost
or make you whole again.
But if I’m wise enough to silent be
and only share my tears,
t’will be greater gift than wondrous words
with wisdom of the years.



Copyright Brian C. Austin
Published in Laughter & Tears Trade Paper and Audio CD
Used by permission
all rights reserved



The voice of Brian C. Austin & Alanna Rusnak
Daddy


They put you in a wooden box with ruffles all around.
Mommy say’s they’re gonna put it way down underground,
But you promised we’d go fishin’ – said worms was goin’ cheap
and you always told me promises was somethin’ I should keep.

The ruffles wouldda made you laugh. Youda called it girl stuff.
I tried to be your special girl. Was I just not good enough?
Daddy, why’d you hafta go? Mommy cried all night.
I’d put all my toys away so you wouldn’t hafta fight.

I always had a special hug for when you came home sad,
though I was just a bit afraid the times you came home mad.
I tried to be a real good girl and do what I was told.
It was only when you drank too much that you would yell and scold.

You brought me home a two-wheel bike painted so it looked new.
I don’t need training wheels no more can you see what I can do?
Why’d you go away and die? Daddy, I hurt inside.
I cried all night and all day too and I just wanna hide.

A policeman came. A preacher too. They made Mommy cry.
Daddy, why’d you take those pills then lie on the couch and die?
I love you. But I hate you too! I’m all mixed up inside.
You called me Angel just days ago, but I think you musta lied.

If I was Angel, you wouldn’t do somethin’ so mean as this.
You’d say it was a silly joke and come back with a kiss.
Daddy, I’m saving up a hug. It’s ready just for you.
Please come back Daddy. I’ll be good, just like you want me to.

Mommy says you won’t come back but I know that can’t be true,
cause Daddy, my own Daddy, your special girl needs you.

Copyright Brian C. Austin
Published in Laughter & Tears Trade Paper & Audio CD
Used by Permission
all rights reserved


Of Sowing and Reaping

He recoiled like I had struck him though I spoke a simple truth
that I’d tried so many times to say before.
T’was not an accusation, just a reaping what was sown,
accountability held up at his door.

Action and reaction. Physics from Junior High,
but his understanding never seems to reach.
And I know that I’m not perfect. I have no stones to throw.
And I try so hard to stop the urge to preach.

Helpless I have stood by, watched foolish choices made,
tried to pick the pieces from the dirt.
And I’ve often been the bad guy. He doesn’t like the truth
and whimpers like a child with feelings hurt.

And he fears that I’ll abandon like so many others have.
And I’m tired and confess, his fears I share.
For he doesn’t seem to get it. He doesn’t comprehend
how high the price when people show they care.

He’ll drink till he finds courage to take an overdose
then call in mocking voice to say goodbye.
He curses and abuses when at last we track him down.
“Go to Hell. Butt out and let me die.”

But death is not his real goal. It’s to stop the hurting NOW!
And I’ve gone to Hell, and there I’ve clasped his hand;
walked with him through the darkness. I’ve shared his agony,
ached with him, though he cannot understand. . .

That he holds all the power in the choices that he makes.
The responsibility is his alone to keep.
And though I walk beside him, give all the help I can,
he’s the one who sows – then sobs to reap.



Copyright Brian C. Austin 
from the Let Heaven Weep collection
self-distributed
Used by permission
all rights reserved 


The voice of Brian C. Austin

Links to blog posts titled,   "The Anatomy of a Suicide." pt. 1
 
                                        "The Anatomy of a Suicide." pt. 2


It Feels Like Anger


Love? It feels like anger – and I’m tired to the bone.
I’ve been fighting ‘gainst the things I want to say.
I really want to shake him, get a message through his skull.
A part of me wants to make him pay.

The crises come farther apart.
It’s progress of a kind
and I know that in his way he’s trying hard.
But I’ve walked this path so oft’ before
and the cost each time is high
and I wonder – can I do it once again?

Seventy times seven? Seems that number’s getting close,
but God has not yet given up on me.
Don’t know what I have left to give.
Already feel so drained,
and the days ahead are shrouded with a cloud.

But love is not a cheap thing,
is not given without cost.
Seems the Cross should be reminder strong enough.
And strange to say – I believe in him
though the evidence says “NO.”
and scores of others have washed their hands of him.

Love? It feels like anger.
Don’t look for gentle words.
Look for actions that declare he still has worth.
And stand with me if you will for I sense I’m growing weak.
Yet I long to see him on the healing path.

Though my belief in him grows shaky
help me not let it die.
The God who loves me loves him deeply too.
And if we stand together – so much stronger than alone
we can find a way to see him through.

Love? It feels like anger
and I’m okay with that.
Not beating myself up with shame and guilt.
I sense that someone’s praying, so I’ll last another day.
Maybe it will be the one that sees him free.


Copyright Brian C. Austin
From the Let Heaven Weep collection
self distributed
used by permission
all rights reserved



The voice of Brian C. Austin