Monday, May 15, 2006
I heard your voice today, the first time in weeks, from a saved voice message marked for deletion. I remember the countless times I’d saved your messages, saved your voice for a rainy day. The message was from two years ago; you were wishing me good luck on my first day at Hood. All this time I’ve had it, listened to it, and saved it over and over again. Only now was I surprised and heart-sickened from the sound of you wishing me well.
Last night I dreamed of you. It caught me off my guard, so wrapped up in everything else have I been, concerned with what was immediately in front of me that I could tuck you away in the back of my mind. Your face was distorted with rage and pain as you screamed at me. In a terrifying moment of memory, I felt harsh words and hands sting my back, my face, my arms, my neck, my spirit—though I know they were not your own. You asked me why, with tears in your eyes and frantic desperation in your voice. I had no answer for you, and I have none now. I woke from that dream with blood on my lips.
You took away a piece of my heart, when your country called and carried you away. Now that we are done, I know that I shall never have it back again. We lost our souls to each other in the darkness, and I feel as though we are destined to care with half ourselves, touched and scarred by love. I gave you everything I could, and still I’m faced with the reality that it was not enough to make you happy, even for someone who claimed to love me so much. You promised me forever, but forever came too soon and was gone in the flash of an eye. I’m hurt by the truth, and I’ve become ever more conscious of my own flaws because I could not make you happy. Even when I lay nestled in the arms of another, I feel doubt creeping up on me. You’ve taken away a piece of my heart—from loving you or being hurt by you, I know not which, but I feel it like a thorn in my broken body.
Two years ago, he presented me with a ring, a sterling silver band with our initials and the words “No Matter What” inscribed within. I wore it faithfully all this time, a symbol of his promises to me. Seven years ago, I had given him the same ring as a parting gift. As our romance neared its end, and our happy childhoods with it, I vowed the bond between us would never be broken, that we would always be together in friendship and familial love, no matter what. He never took it off, and had the words tattooed upon his calf.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
My finger feels naked and shows obvious signs of what is no longer there. It marks the end and new beginning of my life without you. It hurts still. I mark myself for love lost, for anger, for torment, for broken promises and dreams. And I mark myself for your suffering too. La sangre habla mas fuerte que palabras.
As the days grow shorter in number until his return, I find myself becoming more and more full of dread. I cannot know what the future holds. What will it be like when he comes home?
I am a
Growing woman, a frightened child, a timid lover,
And a fearless fighter. Conflicted, oh, my soul!
I am a
Wearer of masks, a shape shifter and an acrobat—
A hidden youth struggles against camouflage bonds.
I am a
Daisy in the Wind, Paper in the Flames.
Whipped, bent and broken; devoured, seared and tortured—
I am a
Victim of cruel Circumstance, a force outside my own,
Which taints innocence and beauty with crimson tears.
While perusing shelves and aisles at a bookstore, I came across a book of sages. I sat and turned each leaf of paper with care, searching for answers or advice, a solvent for my wounded soul.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
“When you are lacking in faith, others will be unfaithful to you.”
–Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching, 17.
In those unforgiving moments, I hear you weeping glorious songs of grief and madness, betrayal and longing. I’m haunted by strange melodies and visions of a love lost to distrust and desire, and I’m saddened by my own contributions to misery. There is a rift between us now, a deep scar that widens the valley between us. So much history lost, so much anger grows in its stead; I feel cheated of what could have been, and relieved of an unbearable burden.
“When all the world recognizes beauty as beauty,
This in itself is ugliness.
When all the world recognizes good as good, this in
Itself is evil.
Indeed, the hidden and the manifest give birth to
each other.
Difficult and easy complement each other.
Long and short exhibit each other.
High and low set measure to each other.
Voice and sound harmonize each other.
Back and front follow each other.
Therefore, the Sage manages his affairs without ado,
And spends his teachings without talking.
He denies nothing to the teeming things.
He rears them, but lays no claim to them,
He does his work, but sets no store by it.
He accomplishes his task, but does not dwell upon it.
And yet it is just because he does not dwell on it
That nobody can ever take it away from him.”
—Lao Tzu, Tao Teh Ching, 2.
Place no value in right and wrong, pleasure and annoyance, depression and bliss, nor good and evil. Clear your mind of all these human feelings; understand the source and struggle of emotion, for from all conflict comes harmony and contentedness, as they are one and the same.
An older, wiser and more courageous man than I once said that there was no joy without sorrow, and though I know his words hold truth, I cannot disinter what I have laid to rest. My past, my heart, my mind is heavily guarded by years of anger, hurt and deceit. I cannot will myself from this dejected state, nor be liberated by mankind, though I feel my soul pining to be emancipated from this unconscious tomb. In the most tender flashes, I come alive. I remember what it was to be free, and I revel in its magnificence, but in an instant it is gone, and apprehension consumes my mind. Will I ever know what it is to be without chains of guilt or shame or fear—the manacles that I myself imposed?
In moments like these, I turn my emotion inward, but moonlit angel would not let me wrestle my demons alone. I confided in him my overbearing sense of guilt, my head hung in shame. Sometimes I feel drained of life, I said. Sometimes I feel like I don’t possess the strength to carry on.
Then draw your strength from me, he said. Our lives are interwoven now. You are not alone.
He pulled me close to him, and kissed me on my forehead in the dark. I could hardly see him in the dim fluorescent lighting of the parking garage, but I felt his heart beating against mine. I don’t know how long we stood there locked in each other’s arms, but we said goodbye as the courthouse clock tolled midnight.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
My little sister scurried into the dining room, with the phone in hand, to where I sat at my computer. Someone is on the phone for you, she said. I put the receiver to my ear and said hello, without hesitating. I wasn’t prepared for the events which followed—I wasn’t ready to confront my Heart just yet, but when I heard his voice, there was no way to avoid it.
My throat constricted, my shoulders tightened, my breaths came in quick and shallow gasps for air. Although it felt that ages had passed, in reality, it had only been a matter of weeks since we had spoken last. Until that moment, I didn’t realize how much I missed his smooth and confident tone. How are you, he asked. All I could manage was a strangled-sounding “fine.” We made small talk for a while, a meager attempt at etiquette, but at last he asked the question I’d been dreading all this time. Is it over, he asked. I could not tell a lie. I said yes—that simple, definite and finalizing word which loosed a mixture of relief and desperate sadness in me.
I figured, he said nonchalantly. His feigned indifference cut me deeper than the knife, but I knew he was protecting himself. He hurried through a brief explanation of how he felt. I could hear the blame in his voice, and I knew that he felt he had been wronged by me. I listened to him without speaking; I made no attempt to defend myself.
He asked me when my feelings for him faded. At that moment, I wished my heart would just stop beating, rather than to tell him that I still loved him. They never faded, I said quietly, but we can’t be together. Before I could even finish the sentence, I had tears rolling down my cheeks.
Don’t cry, baby, he said. It’s all going to be okay. I’ve always loved you, and I always will until the day I die, but if we can’t be together then I can respect that. I’m going away, and we might not see each other again, but if you ever need anything, you can always call me.
He said “I love you” one last time and then hung up the phone.
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