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The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Editorial Note by the Editor
Some poems arrive with a hush around them. Others, like this one, carry a quiet weight that reverberates long after reading.
Mark Antony Owen’s A suicide note is not metaphor. It was written with the real intent to be found. A document of care left in the imagined aftermath of absence. It’s been years now—but the poem remains, not as evidence of despair, but as testament to the strange tenderness that can accompany suicidal thinking: the desire to make things easier for others, to soften the blow, to leave behind instructions, even comfort. To love, even in the leaving.
There’s nothing romantic about this. What strikes me most is the ordinariness of the instructions. “Comb the children’s hair.” “Book holidays.” “Carry tissues.” In the imagined wake of death, the speaker’s attention turns not to themselves but to the mess that grief will leave behind—and how to hold it. It's heartbreaking. And it’s human.
I’ve heard people say they’ve only ever thought about ending their life once. Or maybe twice. The truth, for many of us, is often closer to five. Maybe more. And when we speak of survival, as this journal so often does, we must also honour the complexity of that survival—not as a single choice, but as a choice made again and again in the face of unbearable weight.
We publish this poem with care and intention. Not to aestheticise pain. Not to offer resolution. But to say: this was real. It still is. And in the aftermath of such honesty, something else becomes possible—compassion, witness, conversation. Poetry is not a cure, but it can be a hand held out. If this poem reaches you in that dark place, let it be a bridge. You are not alone.
A suicide note
by Mark Antony Owen
Comb the children’s hair. Check there isn’t breakfast
🆘 If you’re in crisis
You are not alone. Support is available.
Samaritans – Whatever you're going through, you can talk to someone 24/7. Call 116 123 for free, email [email protected], or visit samaritans.org to find your nearest branch.
James’s Place – Free, life-saving treatment for men in suicidal crisis. Available in London, Liverpool, Newcastle, and more. Self-referral or referral by a professional. Visit jamesplace.org.uk to find help near you.
The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Mark Antony Owen
is the author of digital-first poetry project Subruria. He’s also the creator and curator of online poetry journals iamb and After…
By Max Wallis' Daily Aftershock Writing Prompts (The Aftershock Review)The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Editorial Note by the Editor
Some poems arrive with a hush around them. Others, like this one, carry a quiet weight that reverberates long after reading.
Mark Antony Owen’s A suicide note is not metaphor. It was written with the real intent to be found. A document of care left in the imagined aftermath of absence. It’s been years now—but the poem remains, not as evidence of despair, but as testament to the strange tenderness that can accompany suicidal thinking: the desire to make things easier for others, to soften the blow, to leave behind instructions, even comfort. To love, even in the leaving.
There’s nothing romantic about this. What strikes me most is the ordinariness of the instructions. “Comb the children’s hair.” “Book holidays.” “Carry tissues.” In the imagined wake of death, the speaker’s attention turns not to themselves but to the mess that grief will leave behind—and how to hold it. It's heartbreaking. And it’s human.
I’ve heard people say they’ve only ever thought about ending their life once. Or maybe twice. The truth, for many of us, is often closer to five. Maybe more. And when we speak of survival, as this journal so often does, we must also honour the complexity of that survival—not as a single choice, but as a choice made again and again in the face of unbearable weight.
We publish this poem with care and intention. Not to aestheticise pain. Not to offer resolution. But to say: this was real. It still is. And in the aftermath of such honesty, something else becomes possible—compassion, witness, conversation. Poetry is not a cure, but it can be a hand held out. If this poem reaches you in that dark place, let it be a bridge. You are not alone.
A suicide note
by Mark Antony Owen
Comb the children’s hair. Check there isn’t breakfast
🆘 If you’re in crisis
You are not alone. Support is available.
Samaritans – Whatever you're going through, you can talk to someone 24/7. Call 116 123 for free, email [email protected], or visit samaritans.org to find your nearest branch.
James’s Place – Free, life-saving treatment for men in suicidal crisis. Available in London, Liverpool, Newcastle, and more. Self-referral or referral by a professional. Visit jamesplace.org.uk to find help near you.
The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Mark Antony Owen
is the author of digital-first poetry project Subruria. He’s also the creator and curator of online poetry journals iamb and After…