The last line in Teetle Clawson’s poem “Three Seasons” [July 2015] hit hard: “It didn’t occur to me to hide the bullets.” I thought the poem was going to be about a couple returning to nature. I was surprised to find it was about suicide.
I have had bipolar disorder since the age of nineteen and have made suicide attempts in my darkest hours. Later in life I suffered a traumatic brain injury from an automobile accident. It changed my personality, affected my memory, and eventually led to my divorce.
If I’d had a gun with bullets, like Greg did in Clawson’s poem, I would not be here now.