Life after Death
I fear the void,
The emptiness, the silence,
the crystalline idea that I am nothing,
Are you out there God?
Are you sitting there judging me?
Counting up my sins.
The way I jaywalk,
that I laugh too hard,
swear too long,
and lie with a straight face.
Each sin mounting in the infinite answer,
rejection from your pearly gates.
Should I try to be good,
a better person,
constantly struggling to change who I am?
Does not God love me no matter how I act?
Can he not see that I am torn?
Trying to live up to his expectations,
those of my parents,
those of my friends,
and worst of all my own...
Is there life after death?
Is there a place of respite from these fears,
constantly banging around my head?
Branding me a sinner,
forcing guilt down my throat,
choking on the hypocrisy.
A darkness, a light at the tunnel,
Silence.
Emptiness.
Death,
and finally, Peace.
Waiting...
Your leg jumps, vibrating next to me,
I know your nervous, I am too,
but you need to stop the incessant shaking,
the tremors making me feel nauseous, unstable, insane.
The door opens, she walks in,
her face shows us nothing,
keeping us in suspense.
In her hands she has a file,
THE FILE, OUR FILE,
the file that will change our lives.
It seems innocent enough,
a normal, simple manila file.
Slightly turned up edges,
where you can see people have opened and closed it,
perhaps that is a bad sign?
A slight tear in the upper right corner,
a slight crease,
where someone bent it back too far.
I feel the folder stealing my breath,
as the woman sets it gently on the table in front of her.
She sits behind it, her face gives nothing away,
no telltale sign of our fate,
adjusts it so that it faces her directly,
my heart is ready to explode as it is opened.
"We have reviewed your file..."
My heart stops.
Time stops,
I can feel you tensing beside me,
slowly you squeeze my hand,
that I had stopped realizing you held hours ago.
No sounds spins through the room,
as we wait for her next words,
breath held in fear and anticipation,
"and we think you are perfect candidates."
My head buzzes,
Your eyes shout your relief as you stare out at me,
a smile breaks out on your face,
but I don’t see your smile, I stare at that folder,
waiting....
Its not done,
holding our life in it's thin paper grasp.
"We normally have a waiting period,
but we received a new born..."
I don't hear the rest, do not hear your questions,
Your curiosity spilling from your mouth in a tidal wave of hope.
I do not hear the social worker say that she is from Mongolia,
or how her mother was sick but that she is 100% healthy.
I only see the file,
spitting out a picture,
a photo,
of a beautiful little girl,
small and innocent,
just waiting…
To be loved by me,
Smiled at by you,
Sung to sleep by us,
A real family at last.
I begin to breathe again,
Feel the ground solidify under my feet,
And realize that the our life is just beginning.
Bloody Knuckles
Torn skin, withered heart, and a feeling of deep betrayal.
Your staring sweetly back at me, smirking at my pain, filling me with emotion.
A memory of that moment when I saw you for who you really are, a love lost, proven false.
Torn skin, withered heart, and a feeling of deep betrayal.
You post the pictures of your NEW family, you smugly like my threads, comment of my empty nest, you continue to harass me!
You make me feel fear that I will always be alone, and anger and rage that you stole my happy ending.
Torn skin, withered heart, and a feeling of deep betrayal.
Your staring sweetly back at me, smirking at my pain, filling me with emotion.
Child Eyes
When I was young I believed in fairy tales and magic,
I believed in happily ever after’s,
wishes coming true and make believe.
When I was young I believed in infinite possibilities,
in making my goals come true with hard work,
in the limitless future of ballerinas, astronauts and movie stars that I had in front of me.
When I was young I saw the world through rosy colored glasses,
blurred lines of what will be and what can be,
images of a better future filled with magic and wonder.
When I was young I saw no color,
no differences,
no reason to be scared.
When I was young I saw more than I see now,
and infinitely less.
My eyes are the same,
yet what they see has changed as I have grown,
stereotypes, stigmas, and everything in between color my eyes black,
fogged over by the what ifs and how comes.
They see the lies that are spread,
The terror that people rejoice in,
The oppression of those who have nothing.
They see that my future is limited,
Chained by society’s expectations,
Of social norms,
And how I am expected to act.
My child eyes saw life as freedom,
Dancing and singing in the street,
Jumping in puddles,
Laughing at a leaf blown in the wind.
My adult eyes see darkness,
A prison of potential opportunities lost,
Of regrets, and wishes lost to soon to the heavy burden that it life.
When I was a child I believed in more,
now I am an adult and I know there is less.
Fresh Ink
The ink is poured slowly into plastic pins,
Small and round,
they seem to hold nothing at all,
but enough to mark me forever.
The colors green and black,
Not mixing,
not yet,
the whirl of the machine as it roars to life,
Buzz.
I’m tense yet exhilarated,
ready for the burn,
ready for the heat,
the sizzle of my flesh as its torn and stained.
The first touch to skin,
the first drop of blood,
mixing with the ink,
a pattern emerges,
streaks of black,
swirls of green,
your favorite colors imprinted on my skin.
The blueprint slowly disappears,
beneath the hum of the machine,
the design starting to take shape,
take life upon my skin,
as your life,
your presence changed me forever,
marked me with invisible ink.
The pain is addicting,
Lancing through my arm,
Settling in my stomach,
A gentle ache,
A reminder that I want this,
like I wanted you, even with everybody’s warning, opposition.
This tattoo that will mark me forever,
Never let me forget,
The real pain of your loss,
The real pain of your passing,
the void that your absence has created.
They say that love is internal,
and that there are thousand types of love,
ours was real,
and beautiful,
and honest,
we proved them all wrong,
by making the most of the time we had,
smiling in the face of your chemo,
laughing in the face of surgery after surgery,
death didn’t scare us,
it made us stronger,
connected,
whole.
This is my memento,
to a time when love was fresh,
and we smiled in pity for those who didn’t feel what we felt,
didn’t understand how two sick people could find comfort in each other,
find strength in holding each other,
knowing that time was limited,
short,
that the pain we felt was nothing in the scheme of our love.
I don’t regret it,
Not one second,
Not one moment spent with you,
Even now as I struggle to breath,
and smile without you,
I know it was worth it,
our love was perfect in its imperfections.
This pain too will pass, it will settle into an ache,
that will meld into a memory,
That will remind me forever of you,
like the whirling buzz,
of this my first tattoo.