Following my last entry here is a poem about suicide, and the complex feelings suicide arouses in one left behind to contemplate the enormity of that action. The state of mind of the person immediately prior to the act can vary through despair to rage, and from a sense of total failure to one of having been totally failed. The first stanza is not about suicide at all, but about the kind of personal experience which might enable a professional to understand what a suicidal person is experiencing. Sometimes in a poem there is an effect of mimesis, and there is that intention at the end of this poem. It is dedicated to my guide in managing suicidal patients as a psychiatrist, Gethin Morgan.
You'll learn something new about eloquence when the power fails you. While speaking you feel doubtful of the approaching preposition and stumble. As you strain to make a point your words become sombre and stay grounded. You recover but are discouraged and swerve the final flourish though it worked before. There's a related problem of nuances and scruples which touches the self less closely. For that reason the jolt comes later. It's the failure to hear as urgent the recurring note of despair: unemphatic never starkly present breaking against a self-concealing shame, someone's parleying with life in the days before ending it.