Day 5 POEM: This Is Where

This Is Where
Janel J. Tutak, October 24, 2004

This is where he used to sit
And he’d have so much fun with it
For this is where he used to swing
It used to be his favourite thing
He used to love to swing so high
He’d laugh out loud as he’d fly
Simple pleasure created a laughing fit
This is where he used to sit

This is where he used to play
And he’d have fun all through the day
For this is where his bells he’d ring
It used to be his favourite thing
He used to love their musical melody
He’d was as happy as happy could be
Simple pleasure brought a happy day
This is where he used to play

This is where he used to hum
And perform for dad and mum
For this is where he used to sing
It used to be his favourite thing
He used to love to sing a song
He could do it all day long
Simple pleasures loved by some
This is where he used to hum

This is where he went to school
And he was popular and oh so cool
He was crowned the prom king
It used to be his favourite thing
He had the pictures, kept the crown
It cheered him up when he was down
Simple pleasures of his high school rule
This is where he went school

This is where he slammed his bedroom door
And he broke down, couldn’t take anymore
He was planning what the future brings
But it was his parent’s favourite things
He’d wanted to write, not play football
But that wasn’t what his dad had in mind at all
Simple pleasures weren’t allowed anymore
This is where he slammed his bedroom door

This is where he used to sleep
And when no one was there, he’d weep
He was doing what made his heart sting
Forbidden to do his favourite thing
But he doesn’t want to disappoint mum and dad
Too afraid to tell them why he’s sad
Simple problems seemed to pile in too deep
This is were he brought on his permanent sleep

--

This poem is fiction but unfortunately the emotions within it, the subject matter, is not. Suicide is such a tragic, tragic reality. I remember reading a poem (or maybe a short story?) when I was in grade 5 that a triggered the first line, This is where he used to... Used to. What a sad thing to write. The thought that someone used to do something before they died is sad within itself but to think they used to and died to young. Used to and it was a cry for help. Used to and it is missed. So many things can be conjured up with those words, used to. I never forgot the way it made me feel then and it is a line I have used for inspiration many a times. I actually remember writing a poem in grade 5 using that line but sadly not every poem or story I have written has been recovered. While remembering that poem, I wrote a different one, one more dark. If you know or think you know anyone who is feeling so down, feeling like suicide could be an option I urge you to reach out to them. Hold on to them. Show them love so they can move on and those suicidal thoughts can be something they used to feel but now they feel better.