Hide and Seek

I am a champion of hide and seek.

Finding the dark corners

I fold myself in two, fourths, sevenths-

Until I am small enough to go unseen.

The light shines, but doesn’t find me.

I am not in there, I cannot be found in the wide open spaces.

That is not me, that is who you pretend I am.

She is the one you find,

The one you elate in

The one who inspires you to yell, “I’ve got her! I know where she is; I see her!”

But that is not me.

That’s why you can’t see.

You are so delighted to have her – a projection, a falsity

you don’t even notice that I’ve disappeared;

folded in on myself completely.

Ninths, elevenths, twelfths.

I fold and refold until I begin to break.

But you can’t see, you don’t care, to you I’m not even there.

You have what you want and have no need for me or the side you don’t want to see.

Split yourself in two,

Push one way down deep.

That’s how you win hide and seek.

The Secret

I haven’t told you yet

I haven’t told you because I’m terrified.

I don’t know how to tell you because this is you.

In so many ways I’ll have to go through it again

I’ll have to watch the same struggles,

Answer the same questions

But this time it’ll be you that’s gone.

And bringing it up will make it come faster

I’m certain that the moment I put the thought in your head,

It won’t let go.

Your brain will take it and push it into being

Suddenly it will all be true.

And this time I’ll be the one alone.

So I’m not telling you.

You won’t understand,

You don’t understand I can’t.

I can’t let this happen because I cannot do this.

In no way am I ready.

I distance myself because it already hurts,

So how would I go through this?

I can’t do it, because next it will be you.

Next I’ll be watching you leave

Watching you fade away

And what if I’m not strong enough.

How will I ever do it all without you?

I don’t have sixty years,

I barely got twenty.

How will I tell you?

I won’t.

A Prayer to St. Jude

Who remembers the children,

lonely, scared, and cold?

Do we ever speak of them

make sure their stories are told?

We whisper years of the one who did it,

murmur how it was wrong.

But only the child for a moment,

then the tears are gone.

It hurts too much

so they say.

And yet I hold onto,

all he suffered that day.

I remember and I imagine

 the emotions he went through.

I never could completely understand,

what it meant to be you.

To watch the one you loved so much,

transform mother to monster.

Were you forced to see,

losing you changed her.

How long did it take you to understand,

 guess what was about to come?

Questions spilling from your mouth,

until the rope was hung?

I pray you never understood,

I pray fear never broke through,

I pray you only knew love.

I pray every day for you,

My Jude.

A Very Rough Draft

I risked a speeding ticket on my way to her. I ran into my car, rushed over the icy paths, and risked my life in order to reach her on time. Fear and panic blinded me - what if I didn't make it, what if she left without getting to say goodbye, what if? My eyes strained against the darkness as I drove the two hours to the hospital.

There were other Easter Vigils where we didn't sit by each other. But that separation was brought on by the importance of serving at mass or singing in the church choir - never had it been anything so permanent. Before, she would be looking up at me from a pew, smiling with an unending joy to see her only daughter participating in the mass that way. But now, just three days ago, she had accused me of kidnapping her, of forcing her to join a cult. At that moment I knew, if we ever attended another vigil together we would not be sitting by each other. I knew that I had lost her and I hadn't been able to say goodbye.

My mother, my best friend, entered the tomb of her own mind - the dementia has taken over and I'm afraid to roll away the stone and see what is left. The women who went to attend Jesus, they were greeted by angels...I fear the devil. I am scared to be with her. I am scared to be a daughter who can't handle this change. I'm scared that when I roll away the stone the tomb will be empty.

Mary and the others found Jesus. Yes, he looked different, but they knew it was him by the fire lit in their souls. Fear is blinding me to the flame that is my mother. How can I see the strong, fierce woman who raised me, when I am terrified of the weak body and mind in front of me?

Easter is a time of resurrection and joy, but now I only see anxiety and stress. I see hours of repeating answers, reminding her where the bathroom is, and the pressure to be the supportive daughter. Easter doesn't mean a time of celebration for me any more...nor does any other holiday. Now, now it is all darkness and my eyes strain as I drive. My destination no more clear than it was that night two years ago - but I keep looking, hoping to find anything that might, at least, be a tiny bit familiar.

Learning to lose

"The Art of Losing isn't hard to master."
No,
it's easy to lose.
Set your keys down and they appear somewhere else.
It's not losing that is hard -
it's admitting that you've lost.

That you've lost your phone,
lost the word
the thought
the name
your mind, memories
yourself.
To admit you've lost means to find defeat.

defeat in ever finding her again.
defeat in the idea of looking into her eyes and say -
there she is.
there's my companion,
mother,
friend.
defeat means knowing  to give up.

give up on the hope of progress
give up on the idea of sanity
give up until you run out of things to lose
give up until you can admit you're lost.
until you can admit your loss.

"the Art of Losing isn't hard to master."
Perhaps not, Elizabeth Bishop.
But learning it - that is the disaster.

Searching for Her

Where is she -
the girl I once was.
Did I give her away as I opened up?
Sharing everything, every thought;
she was selfish.
Where did she go?
Did I love too much-
until she learned to break?

I remember alone,
I remember happy - self-sufficient.
Was that so bad?

The lost child, the lonely child
Never the scared child.

Where is she?
If I try hard enough will I find she's still in me?

Do I want to find her?
Become her again?
Am I  happy with who I am now?
Who I might become?

But where is she?

A Letter to Me - A Letter to You

Strength.

We work so hard - pump iron, run for miles, swim until our skin is blue, all in the name of becoming stronger.

We fall in love, we create friendships, we put ourselves out there and are rejected constantly; all because we know "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Here's a secret about strength -  it never goes away. When we are young we are strong. Some of us develop this strength sooner than others, but we fall and we rise and we fall again, each time learning to be faster when we get back up.

This strength does not leave. You are always strong, but sometimes you're scared to be strong. Sometimes it is easier to say, "I can't do this, I'm not strong enough" and the world will admit you are weak. You can lean on the people around you until you find your strength again. And this is good.

The problem is when you forget that you are always strong. The problem is when you believe your strength only comes from the people around you. This is when you are weak.

You are weakest when you only know yourself through others. You are weakest when you can only be if the people around you create you. You are weakest when you cease to exist without people. You carry a strength inside you always - you are weakest when  you forget this.

But this is hard to remember. It's easier to lean on others than to admit you can stand alone. But you have to. If you can't stand by yourself then there is no reason to stand at all. You have to build your own strength, push yourself to do the extra mile, a few more minutes, to stand back up. And you can do it.

It's hard. Nothing is harder than believing. But you can do it - you will do it. Force yourself to forget about the snooze button, to put down the phone, to smile at a stranger. Force yourself until it is habit. Find your strength and force it to grow. Then maybe, one day, another person will lean on you and you can support them until they too realize it's time to find their strength again. Grow and share what you have done, how you've learned. Grow until the whole world is strong.