Sunday, Alone

I hold my breath and focus on the sweeter things
because if I imagine the possibilities
I might just lose it
as I walk through these doors alone
I live a future I do not wish to see
and I almost wish I had stayed home
so these pitiful eyes wouldn’t look at me
consolation is a curse
that pulls me back under

sitting on the shelf
are memories that I take for granted
I imagine them cracked and dusty
and tears blur my vision so I cannot see
these emotional scenes sneak up on me
a scam aimed at my innermost vulnerabilities
I don’t want to stifle these moments because
it could be the end
but if I think about how much you mean to me and how you are such a true friend
my sorrow will burst forth and be without end
don’t leave me I pray
so I can love you
another day

 

Composed 8/26/18

The Moment

Composed 5/28/15
Description: I’ve increasingly become aware that I fear this myself.

It couldn’t have been a more peaceful evening.

As the sun began its descent, its beams filtered in through the kitchen window and illuminated her mug-filled hands. She brought the rim to her lips and grimaced only slightly as she swallowed.

Tugging her knit sweater more closely to her willowed frame, she stared outside. It was so bright compared to her dim kitchen that she squinted to clearly see the clouds drifting in the sky, the trees easing back and forth in the breeze.

She was alone. And it was this thought that seized her when the pains came.

She had anticipated death; she did not fear the pain or the passing itself. No, she feared bring alone in The Moment. There was no one to witness, to hold, to say goodbye. She would just be found, gone. No one would see her, speak with her again. Her lasts were finalized, and no one was coming to whisper sweet thoughts as she transitioned into that universally Unknown Place.

So she was afraid. As the mug broke, as she crouched to the floor, as she moaned and laid down, belly up, she was lonely, and she was afraid. It seemed such a cruel fate to live so fully, to have family, to make friends, and die abandoned and alone.

She died in the dark. She died sad.

It wasn’t until then that she could see the beaming silhouette standing beside her. He wore a white cloak – heavy, hooded, and warm. He offered his hand, and she took it. She stood and looked down at The Body and started to cry. But he brushed the tears from her cheek, and she realized she had never really been alone.