Just after I heard about the suicide of an acquaintance I ran across this poem from Bryana Johnson (Ruminate, Issue 29, p. 64):
Fourteen Reasons Not to Jump
Because you are young with many soft rains in front of you. Because you are old with many soft rains behind you. Because of the sharp blood of the trees and the smell of the ground that rises on every side.
Because of the bread in your cupboard that you left uneaten. Because children have killed for bread. Because the world is a great killing field. Because the world is a vast ball room. Because of the lilies of the field.
Because the green earth will never let you go. Because she has always been like a gray miser chasing pennies across the tiles. Because the royal and cerulean sky does not want you. Because you have no wings.
Because out of diamonds gripping the ground comes the spring, a chorus of crocuses. Because someday you may find a puzzle with five thousand pieces and put it together, cardboard slice by cardboard slice.