Archive for March 2016
At least, that’s how I remember it
There must have been 30 of them
huddled in the corner.
30 muffled chuckles when I gave them the news.
Just one of me, the medical marvel, the unanswered question.
They were the doctors and I was the patient.
Help is what I asked for.
Judgement is what was prescribed.
A four-walled microcosm of my envisioned reality.
I was the odd man out, again.
I’m telling you, there must have been 30 of them.
Four Years
It’s incredible to soak it in.
The sea of cold sheets blanket us in comfort.
In this city we call home,
I’ve never felt so lucky.
It’s been a long time since my feet last touched the ground.
Four years.
And I don’t plan on landing back down.
Anytime. Ever.
From my second story window
Lucky enough to know that I know nothing of the moment.
What that must feel like.
The thoughts that bounce around her mind.
I know nothing of the process,
the words to come up with,
hoping hers will stand out.
Hers will make them want to hand out.
That moment when the pen cap’s removed,
the sudden scent of permanent ink that could erase
something she hopes is temporary.
She felt the felt tip touch the surface,
all she could afford or find.
She’s lost any sense of entitlement now
as she picks up the sign.
I know nothing of what it takes to walk the distance,
a mere prayer in her hands,
to plant feet in a place so many had likely failed before,
but she hopes she’ll be different.
Hopes.
Dashed with every car,
driven by eyes that move the other direction
as they painstakingly wait out the seconds for the OK to move on.
They are lucky enough to know nothing of the moment.
What that must feel like.
The thoughts that bounce around her mind.