For much of the year in North Dakota and other obliteratingly cold climates, suicide can be as simple as going for a walk: an original sonnet.
⁓The Voice before the Void
“Into the Blizzard: Suicide by Ice”
The Voice before the Void
O Bastard blizzard blowing ice and smite:
Come; claim these fingers and these toes, this nose–
Of them no need have I where I go, where
Cold has no hold, where sun shall not heat me,
Nor wind freeze me, nor sorrow deplete me.
Blow you ice wind about my brow; cleanse my
Mind of the lies required of the alive–
Replace them with ice; encase me in ice.
My skin invisible through your flurries,
My voice inaudible above your roar,
Tonight when I sink in your drifts clean, pure,
To sleep, I shall be forced to rise no more.
At last, at long last: in ice I be free;
My Heart, my scorched Heart: calmed, cooled, finally.