What do you feel?
I told him I felt either nothing
I felt betrayed. Angry. Bitter.
But I didn’t tell him I felt fear.
God I fear.
I fear the coming of the days and years and hours
In which my life will dissolve like so much smoke
Evaporating, not ceasing but vanishing.
I read books with narratives like smoke
O my son Absalom!
You who I loved
Could never understand
The crushing and unbearable freedom
Of making a decision
Right or wrong, I may never know.
I left, it’s true.
I faced one fear
And ended up fearing everything else.
Yes, I’m alone now.
For the life of me I can’t figure out
How to do this.
O my son Jesus!
Who will cry for me?
The world cries for those it knows,
Those whose lives touch the other strings in the loom
Those who scratch out their existence on
Their rocks, their stones, their
Scraps of paper.
It will not cry for me.
I live in a world of men.
And women I suppose.
But they are endless and quiet and calm
The both of them.
I riot inside
And then am silent.
But it is a restless silence
In which I cannot be but that I am not
I am is
I will be was
Am I was already
Just knowing that the future is was?
One day, everything will be past.
History wraps around itself
Like so much god damn smoke.
I am a pastiche,
And a vignette.
I hope to possess more
Than mere verbage
Before I vanish.
But I must be strong.
Bushes are silent and dead when spring comes.
Birds sing still when caged,
But I, my love,
I am not.
I am a living was.
But I must be stronger.
I used to be articulate.
I used to be.
I used to be.
-Kaitlyn Medina [4/12/2011]