Tuesday, 6 November 2007


The book of the writings of Nick Heiney, son of Libby, is being serialized in The Times newspaper. This poem is believed to be the last thing he wrote before his suicide. I find it beautiful, haunting and disturbing.

The morning runs on, a springtime secret through the avenues and avenues which lure all sound away

I sing, as I was taught inside myself.

I sing inside myself when wild moments slice some tender evening like a breeze that rattles gravel and digs in the dirt

I sing, as I was told, inside myself.

I sing inside myself the one wild song, song that whirls my words around until a world unfurls my ship’s new sail

I catch the dew and set a course amongst the ocean curls

The silence at the song’s end

Before the next

Is the world

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