The Unreasonable Demands of April

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No, it’s true, April does not

Arrive as a grim reaper

Coming to take souls

Off to underground rivers

In the waste land

Or anything like that.

On first glance, April

Is a reprieve, new life

Is in abundance, and

We step out and look up

For the first time in awhile.


Now we can rouse ourselves.

Lift ourselves from bed

And go out into the world.

Daffodils, tulips, and blue tits

All await us on the hill.


And we’re guilty.

We feel guilty that

We are not moved.

The long-awaited sun

Is the weight of a millstone

We’ve dropped on our chests.

We faltered somewhere.

With dead eyes and dead ears

We turn away


Now we can do

All the things we feel

We should have wanted.


Breathe deeply.

Close your eyes.

Depression is a warm blanket.

You have no debt

To the happiness brokers.

You are free.


◄ Pretty Messy Things

The Unintended Consequences of Complimentary Behavior ►


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Randy Horton

Wed 3rd Apr 2019 08:20

Thank you, Stu. Suicides tend to peak in April, and I like to raise awareness of that as much as possible.

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Stu Buck

Tue 2nd Apr 2019 16:22

such a strong message randy and i love that you have delivered it within the constraints of a 'springtime' poem, of which there are legion discussing the more mundane aspects of seasonal change.

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