The Winning Hand

The Winning Hand
Dedicated to a friend that was contemplating suicide
© W. Scott Grant
August 8, 1985 11:20 pm

The stakes are high
The hour is late
You open your hand
Two aces, plus three

You’ll stay in
Place a bet
Maybe even raise
Put down three cards

The dealer sneers
And passes your cards
You pick them up
One card at a time

King, oh majestic king
Ace, three of a kind
Ace, four of a kind
A winning hand

Someone raises
Raises big
You match and raise
They match and raise

It’s your turn
Do you fold?

 

 

It seems suicide is in the news a lot recently. It’s touched both me and my wife. An executive vice president for the company where I work took his own life about a month ago, and last weekend, a school mate of my wife’s did the same. I wrote this poem in 1985 when a teen-aged family member was contemplating. Fortunately, he didn’t go through with it. He’s now married with children (and quite likely grandchildren by now.)  Suicide it not an easy way “out.” The stakes are much bigger than you realize, and there is always help available. Nothing is ever so serious that this is the answer. Nothing. 

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