I sit on this bed
Shaking from head to foot
Be still body, what's a foot?
I don’t know what’s
Other than this world is a sham

I think these thoughts
That all are OK, will be OK
If but for me
I don’t know what’s
I guess this is me

I’ve sat here for weeks
Shaking and a rocking
Does no one care
I don’t know what’s
Perhaps it’s me

I hear someone
On the stairs
Shhhh noise, be still
I don’t know what’s
I’ve got to thinking it’s me

They speak, I don’t hear
Jumbled words bouncing off
Into dirty thin air, it’s pretty weird
I don’t know what’s
I sense it’s been me all along

So here I am, full on
Hope hath scattered
Only pain remains
Now I feel what’s
Its ME!

I can see clearly,
here and now, the point is,
I’ve nothing to lose
When your wrong
It’s all full on, life I mean
Don’t worry
I know it’s me

I’m no one, I’m powerless,
I’m done, freedom awaits,
Just one last hurdle then
Life can have its way
Lord take my Heart
                     retrieve my  Soul

 as I swim through deaths valley
       Homeward bound
            hand in hand
                with untraveled defeat 

SJS 1998

Suicide Suan Stubbings

On a painted sky
Where the clouds are hung
For the poet's eye
You may find him
If you may find him
On a distant shore
By the wings of dreams
Through an open door
You may know him
If you may

As a page that aches for a word
Which speaks on a theme that is timeless
While the Sun God will make for your day
As a song in search of a voice that is silent
And the one God will make for your way

And we dance
To a whispered voice
Overheard by the soul
Undertook by the heart
And you may know it
If you may know it

While the sand
Would become the stone
Which begat the spark
Turned to living bone
Holy, holy
Sanctus, sanctus

As a page that aches for a word
Which speaks on a theme that is timeless
While the Sun God will make for your day
As a song in search of a voice that is silent
And the one God will make for your way


Ode to suicide!

Written By Susan Stubbings
“This is the song, that none can sing, this is the gift the old Gods bring, sung this once as the Soul takes wing, in the emptiness of night.  Here is the powerlessness of speech, the letting go that none can teach, the song of things beyond our reach.  Singing to its own light”   Felix Dennis ...

"In the eye of this storm.  All around is peace.  The sun is shining.  I'm glad, I feel, Its hard to die, when the moon  a nd the stars t ry to break one, d own, yet here is my sun, shining like s tars just for me.  I'm alone on t his highway, this one way street but I'm so glad, you know, s ince if you were here or anyone for that matter y ou, they'd talk, chatter endlessly a bout how to fix me, how good life is, h ow good life can be, and how I have umpteen reasons to be alive  and how I don't want to b e me ... right now.   But Me is all I really have.  All any of us have.  I'm vexed in a mess, compressed so I can't see the umpteen you see with such clarity, or me for that matter.   Only the ump, the hurdles, the fog and smog, time speeds up inside my head, there's no gap between then and now,  no space, no time.  Yet here I am  the passive  rain cloud and the blazing sun all rolled into one.  I am a million drops o f dew, the spray, the essence of something new  about to be undone.  I am the storm, I am a bird, The eye of my storm sings loud and clear.  Everyone would tell me its only darkness, its rain, your rainbow awaits when for me its all unadorned excruciating fear and pain, in here I see the light, feel the sheer joy of the painless glimmer, shimmering across the plane, so now I know what I need do.  Fly, fly little bird towards your sun, your freedom awaits then you can be  you, somewhere over  your very own rainbow....  flying high, higher, higher.    Adieu adieu ... 
 SJS 1998
Ode to Suicide Susan Stubbings
I see your pain ... I read your dualities and I feel your pain, your confusion.   I see you struggling and I see you trying to break free from what has you gripped and I feel your pain intensify as you try to get a grip.  The more you struggle the tighter the grip becomes. I see a partition between us; once upon a time it was dark, black but now it is clear and transparent, I can see you through the partition, I see you struggling to find a way out to come out from behind the blockades that keep you hide, I see you trying to come out from behind the mass.   I am on the other side struggling too, watching you struggling, there is no way in for me I have used all my energy trying to get behind the glass barrier trying to show you something, I am sat defeated and yet …….. I know if I give you the answers clear with clarity they will not be your answers and you may find an easy way out.  But I know that way will only be a temporary way into a smaller room where you will eventually not be able to be free at all and the struggle will begin again.  I have a hammer but I know if I break the glass for you, you and me will never be the same again.  So I am on the other side of the glass partition which keeps you in and me out, we can see each other but not touch each other.  I drop slowly to the ground crying tears streaming down my face I wait ... I wait for you to find a way out I hold out my hand for you to see I point to a key which is on your side of the barrier the key will, once in your hand make a door appear as if by magic for you to use to open the door, so you can come out from behind the glass wall so we can sit, recuperate our energies, so we can sit side by side and explore what keeps the barrier there for you .... With arms out stretched ... I wait ... I wait ...  SJS .....
We dream Susan Stubbings


“Come sit down beside me I said to myself,  
And although it doesn’t makes sense,
I held my own hand,  As a small sign of trust
 And together I sat on the fence.”

Michael Leunig

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye

Susan Stubbings Doncaster