A Brief Glimpse at the Past

She opened the book again, straining to read the words with the help of the street light outside. “Stupid,” she thought, “can’t believe you let them leave you.”

Of course her instructors had turned the lights off when they left, she wasn’t supposed to be there this late. Her parents were supposed to be on there way, were supposed to be outside waiting in the warm car, were supposed to remember their only child. But no, according to the poorly lit screen on her phone thirty minutes had passed and still no one was coming. So much for being the “favorite,” for being a “spoiled only child” like everyone assumed. There she was, butt freezing on the cold concrete steps, once again taking bets on which parent would remember her existence first. Hell, which one would get the phone first.

This wasn’t the first time, just the furthest time.

 Forgotten at her after school program? Walk to her mom’s office.

 Forgotten at school? Walk two blocks home.

Forgotten at a friend’s house? Turn it into a sleep over.

 Forgotten at your dance class, fifteen miles from home on a Wednesday night?

Freeze and sing Phantom of the Opera over and over until you can no longer talk.

What other solution was there?

“Could call again,” she mused.

Perhaps this time would be different. She had thought that the past seventeen times, but you never know, miracles happen – hell her birth had happened. Maybe one of them would pick up this time. She sat while the phone rang and rang.

The mother wasn’t supposed to be able to conceive.

The wonders of modern medicine and a clean diet.

The daughter was perfect, without flaw, tested for many.

The baby was exactly on time, March 21.

The parents never were.

No answer, no surprise.

“Really? I am your only child; how do you not realize I’m missing?? This is my own fault for being quiet and relatively well behaved!”

How do you even come to terms with being left behind by the people who love you the most?

Dreaming

There are dreams that we know will let us down. I will never run down a hill, only to find my feet no longer brushed by grass, but rather blanketed in clouds. There are the dreams that find and destroy our sleep - cover us in a darkness without comfort or escape. Dreams that terrify us into leaving the light on, reading ourselves into exhaustion, anything we can do to avoid the screams. But then there are the day time dreams:

I will be successful.

I will own a house.

I will be a wife.

I will find a family.

I will be someone's comfort.

I will be satisfied.

I will belong.

I will achieve it all.

I will fulfill my purpose.

These are the dreams we have when our minds are busy with work, while our bodies move from action to action, doing the daily requirements to get by. These are the dreams that keep us going, the ones we are supposed to chase. But how safe is it to run after these ideas? Throwing ourselves into a void, hoping that we end up clutching the answers in our fists - finally happy. 

Dreams in the daytime are the most dangerous of all. They distract us, keep us from finding the joy in the sunlight, lock us away in "what if's." And there we are stuck. Running on treadmills of our own creation. Stuck staring at dreams broadcast upon the walls of our mind. We are forever unsatisfied. 

I want to live outside these dreams. I want to find myself in a world without the need for change. I want to be happy. But that is just a dream.

Because...

what if the girl who could do it all –

Can’t do this?

She’s so smart,

she’s so talented, she’s so great at finding time for,

A balance.

But what if she’s not!

What if she needs to have time for nothing, time to erase.

To stop being and

stop.

What if she needs, but can’t accept.

She runs, she runs,

Never allowing a breath

If you slow down, you die –

if you die you’ve given up,

She can’t do that

She can’t be the girl who gave up,

Because she never gives up…

She never

stops.

Even when her world broke in two,

When her heart stopped beating,

She kept moving.

She kept being.

Pushed on.

She does not give up.

She is needed to be strong

She is incapable of putting down the weights

And admitting she’s shaking.

She continued when the darkness fell.

She pushed on as the sky bled and the stars rained down.

She does not stop.

She cannot stop.

Because then the universe will know.

she is simply human.

Two Stickers

There are two yellow stickers now.

Overlapping, a year and a half apart -

 but they tell the same story.

They say: visitor.

Visitor driving, racing in the rain.

Visitor in the lobby asking to be let in, 

asking for answers slow to come.

They tell the date.

Dates that the memory will not hold.

Dates that are blurred and twisted into funny jokes,

the pain creating details of the jumbled mess.

They say her name.

A name picked out years before existence

A name freely given, bought by love.

one day to be unspoken.

They tell the story.

A story of heartache,fear, life and near death.

One that will be remembered for years,

forgotten within seconds. Two sides to each sticker,

Yellow flashes, the other sticks.

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.