The Risen Suicide

[cidermaid]

Hi Heslopian, I thought you told your story really well and that the pain of the daughter's condition was made all the more real and poignant because you placed the father as a vicar / priest (thereby giving credance to being able to access the consecrated land for the burial without permission). I thought you carried the symbols and story of his faith stuggles well throughout.
It was an enjoyable read as well as being thought provoking. It has a raw edge of festering grief and a sense of failure that i would imagine would never leave a parent of a child who commits suiside.
A few comments on my read below.

The falseness of her Christian grave will haunt Intriging first line - opens lot of why questions to be answered.
me in Your holy court. My soul was blind. The blind soul was a bit predictable verging on cliche. perhaps work with the blinded line a bit more.
A daughter does this to a man, and I
was weak, preacher or not, a lost parent (not sure I need lost parent - but sort of fills a well worn idea of children not comming with instruction manuels - which they obviously should do )
in fields of sadness he could not attack,
because he could not grasp the martyred mind
inside his daughter's head. The truth is nought;
the grave is all the truth she knew and loved. Loved the story and the humanness of his predicament. Tells me a lot without giving the whole story away. all good for me.

I found her in the barn and wasn't shocked. This line feel a bit over wordy, perhaps don't need to be told it was in the barn.
With tender hand I plucked a knife from one
tight fist, then washed her neck with warm water. Good detailing - vivd.
I knew her destiny was Hell. I tried The sadness of his situation and the weight of his knowledge as a priest comes through. Nicely carried throughout.
to smuggle her elsewhere. A savage cross
of kindling, thrust in earth with Arthur's zeal, I didn't get the referance to Arthur's zeal, made me think of pulling things up, as in a sword from a stone, not planting a cross on a grave - understood the kindling cross.
and her beneath, reserved for Judgement Day
despite that fucking sin (see what I am?
A foul-mouthed cur of wholly sodden mind).
I'm glad her mother's dead. You spared her this
torment, at least. I've earned her pain and more.
What did I think would happen when I laid
my daughter in that grave, her mattress mud?
That cross, that evil cross, so barbarous
and crude, erected on a suicide! Again nice touch of human frustration and pain at the percieved injustices of life. I like that you gave your man such a strong voice.

The roods of old were Heaven's doorknobs compared Not entirly sure what you wanted to convey by roods. I read "roods" as the closed and restrictive elements of faith.
to those sticks nailed by my tired hands.
I'd dressed her sweetly in her white night clothes. Read a bride image here. (symbolic for a believer's faith and purity before God), but also the tenderness of her father in his efforts to make her an acceptable offering for the grave - this really touched my emotions
Why she'd done this was no secret to me
or You. The joy was absent from her eyes,
and even loving grace wasn't enough;
my flock had tried, but man can't force a heart.
I beg You for forgiveness when studying
my case. I did not mean to mock Your ways.
That grave I made was vain and foolish hope. Again the voice of pain and regret. Well done on the balance of each of the stanza's - each stanza has a sense on allowing the man to express a different aspect of his grief.

She rose from it like lava spurting through
brimstone, her eyes static and mouth with worms
bedewed. I screamed then wept in martyred tones.
I could not save the soul she killed herself.

Now each night she pelts my windows with mud, Not sure this line is in keeping or adds much to the read - feels a bit overdone.
walking blind across the woods, not ghost or corpse
but dumb machine, symbol of my crimes,
reminder of hypocrisy. Her eyes
are yoke-less eggs, her skin a rotting steak. Also not sure I need a second referance to the look of her eyes
She never speaks, but serves the wrath of You. The haunting is well told, perhaps a bit too long winded.

Only other comment not sure need to be told it is a suicide in the title - could just be the risen perhaps.
Thanks for the read.
AJ.