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The bluebird is a messenger of the Divine. They fly side by side with angels. (From Universe of Symbolism)

I just hung up the phone from talking to my brother. One of his friend’s, daughter also had schizophrenia.

Sing me a song bluebird.

I say had, because she found a gun, found the cartridge, put the two together, took a walk and never came back.

Sing me a song bluebird.

Her father goes through all the “what if’s” and the “if only,” his pain so raw and his mind searching for answers.

I know the voices she heard. I know the terror. I know the fear. I know how they tell you to take your own life. They demand it, and some of us give in. Fighting voices is a serious battle, one some of us will never win.

Sing me a song bluebird.

I find her on the path where her body was discovered. I hold her in my arms. I want to tell her, “Don’t give up. Don’t give in. Beautiful girl there can be love, there can be children, and there can be a career. There can be sunsets, and harvest moons, and a swim in the ocean. There can be life. You were barely past childhood and the oyster would reveal her pearl to you, in time.”

Sing me a song bluebird.

All of us who live with schizophrenia are warriors. Sleep little warrior. Dream. Dream of us all in a place where there is quiet but no desperation. Dream us all in a place where there is light but no interrogations. Dream us all in a place where our minds are not the enemy but the connection to our heart and to our joy. Dream. Dream. Dream.

Sing me a song bluebird.

Sing me a song, show me a sign.