With the news of yet another tragic suicide in reported in the press today, I felt I wanted to say something on the subject, but wasn’t sure how to frame it and a normal blog post didn’t feel right, so this is a bit different from me.
Everyone at some point in their life will need support and a strong steadying hand – there is no shame in seeking help – admitting you’re struggling is often the bravest single act, because the first step is always the hardest.
I always worry about the people who seem to be the strongest; the ones who always smile and say they’re fine, the ones who feel their issues aren’t as valid or important, the ones who take on everybody else’s pains and never speak of their own. I wrote this for them.
The River and the Rock
The river moves, always moves; it ebbs and flows, it splashes and dances. The rock remains steadfast.
The river twists and turns; in the rain it swells, when it’s hot it flies on the breeze. The rock remains still.
The river catches the light and shines like diamonds; sunbeams dance upon it, beautiful and alive, the moon reflects upon its surface, sharing its beauty. The rock remains reliable.
The river is relentless; it submerges the rock when it needs to, erodes it without noticing, its path is its purpose, its course is set. The rock remains steady.
The river bores into the rock, shapes it with fissures and rivets; its ceaseless movement, demands and pressure leaving their marks. The rock remains strong.
The river breaches the rock; gentle and warm on sunny days, cold and piercing through winter nights. The rock wants to remain.
The river is freezing; cold and hard and dominating, expanding within the rock, applying an unyielding force from deep inside. The rock shatters.
The river didn’t realise; governed by its nature, its course was set, it wasn’t able to retreat, slow or stop. The rock, so steadfast, so still, so strong; its nature was to remain.