Prayer for the Taken.

In the last month, I’ve touched shoulder blades, grasped hands, and clutched knees while looking up into eyes with irises like crowns around a void. Their cheeks were cleansed with relief as spring water dripped from their eyelashes and flushed out their pain and memories and frustration. Crouched in nooks or bathroom floors, we became fountains of warmth and solidarity.
It all happened to us all and we are all struggling in the same way. If anything could save us, we would have done it by now.
I clung to them and begged for it not to be our secret.
Don’t let it seep back down your throat. You’ll be able to taste the shame until you remember your power to banish the lies.
We are not to blame.
We are not tarnished.
We are strong, separately and together.
I will always believe you.

Advertisements
Prayer for the Taken.

Promise Me Nothing.

It’s over.  I’m recovering.  Words haven’t flown through the air for several minutes now.  The debate is over.  The fighting, the persuading, the imploring.  Have we reached a pinnacle? Is it all downhill from here?  A lone smile appears from within the darkness.  “I pinky promise.”  A hand reaches toward mine and a promise is made.  The hand doesn’t understand why I don’t return the gesture.  Promises are a slap in the face.  Merriam-Webster defines a promise as “a statement telling someone that you will definitely do something or that something will definitely happen in the future”.  If I make a promise, I’m going to break it.  You know why?  The very nature of a promise leaves it so vulnerable to being invalidated.  If I knew for a fact I was going to do something, it would already be done.  As soon as I have to assure someone of my dependability, we both know it isn’t going to happen.  Promises portray a definitive end and the end is never certain.

Promise Me Nothing.