Friday, June 19, 2009

Pretty Wings



as i lay here in the bed, i can feel the tubes connected to my body.
the tubes that have solemnly been supporting my life for the past year.
helping me battle this disease.
this disease called love.

i remember the day the doctor gave me the news.
i sat there quietly on the edge of the patient table....
expecting the worst and hoping for the best.
he walked in and sat in front of me.
i knew from the look on his face that it was over.
"im sorry mam...
you are in love."
*sigh*
i knew it before he had let the sounds of his words float into the air.
"but you can live with this disease.
this is not the end.
i know several people who have gone on to live happy lives.
you dont have to let this be your demise.
if you play your cards right, this will be the best thing that ever happened to you."

he sounded so hopeful that day.
he really made me believe.
i couldnt help but smile.
i thought i was going to make it.

i slowly open my eyes.
guard rails up on each side.
the endless white of the walls eliminates all opportunities for thoughts to pop into my head.
there is nothing worth thinking about when you are breathing your last breaths.
nothing but the sound of air and an occasional announcement from the machine that i am still alive.
great.
inhale.
exhale.
beep.
inhale.
exhale.
beep.

i scan the room slowly
until my eyes stumble across a young man in the corner.
he is sleeping.
breathing so deeply.
then it hits me.
its you.
you are the reason i am fading away.
i am slipping into the background because of this disease that you gave me.
i clear my throat to try to wake you up.
ahem.
you rub your eyes and stand up to stretch.
then you remember what jolted you from your sleep.
you look over at me wide-eyed in disbelief.
as you begin walking towards me
i wonder how long you have been sitting there.
your hair is growing wildly all over your head.
your clothes are sagging a bit more than that of the acceptable uniform of a young black man.
they seem to be swallowing you, as if you have lost weight.
you dont look like the same man who gave me this disease a year ago.
so i ask.
you tell me that shortly after i found out i was sick, i blacked out and i never woke back up.
you decided to move into the room next to me so you could be close to me.
you spent the days in that corner.
sleeping or praying that God would bring me back to you.
you have been watching me sleep for almost 8 months now.
i hadnt so much as opened my eyes.
until now.

you have finally made it back to my side.
as i look into your eyes
i begin to remember how i contracted this illness from you.
you are everything i wanted.
everything i needed.
everything i could have asked for.
i can see the happiness in your eyes as you stare at me.
i can hear your soft whispers as you thank God.
but beneath your mask of smiles and thank you's
i can still see the hurt.
the same hurt you always tried to hide from me
because you didnt want to tell me i was doing anything wrong.
you haven't changed at all.
except you are filled with more sorrow now than before.
i can only imagine the strain this has been putting on your life.
i can already see its physical effects so i know it must be taking a toll on your heart, mind, and soul.

i cant stand to see you like this.
i feel guilty.
the guilt wells up in my eyes and rolls down my cheeks.
simultaneously, i see the pain glistening in your eyes and splash onto my arm.
i feel like i should apologize.
but the words escape me.
i can't keep putting you through this.

so.
i have decided to leave.
i can no longer give you what you need.
so for the sake of your happiness, im going to let you go.
i tell you,
this is going to be hard.
but i know you can make it through.
after all of the things we have seen and triumphed,
i know you have it in you.
the pain is flowing from our eyes even faster than before now.
"you cant leave me.
i cant live without you.
how will i survive without my angel."
i tell you that i am not the only angel that God created.
and i know that he has another one waiting for you.
i tell you that i love you.

as you bend down to kiss my cheek and whisper i love
i close my eyes.
there is more that i want to tell you
but i would rather you hear it a different way.
somehow i will try to make you understand.
but now is not the time.

by the time the young man is standing back up,
he sees that her eyes are closed.
He assumes that she has drifted back into her somber sleep.
and now it is time to play the waiting game again.
as he begins to turn his back on his way to the corner
his heart sinks to the floor.
the long high-pitched beep of the machine puts truth to her words.
he looks back to see the lonely green line floating across the screen.
she is gone.

the nurse comes in and says
"im sorry for your loss.
but go home and get some rest.
we can take care of things here."
he slowly begins making steps towards the door.
head held down.
shoulders shrugged.
eyes red and running over.

the nurse stops him
and hands him a letter.
"she said that whenever she finally decided to let go,
she would want you to have this."
outside of the room he carefully tears the seal and pulls out the sheet of paper.
there were only a few sentences on it.

it read:

Dear Pretty Wings,

Im sorry.
But somehow deep down in my heart,
I knew it would come to this.
You did everything right, but I just didn't know how to handle this disease.

I had to leave.
I had to leave.
I had to let love set you free to fly your pretty wings.
Someone's gonna love you better.
But I will always be yours.

Fly away.

Forever and Always,

Your Angel

Monday, June 15, 2009

Perseverance

Dear Perseverance,

Blood, sweat, and tears run together to create a mixture of individuality
Each solution alone tells the story of
another day's work
another lonely struggle
another heavy defeat
another day in the world.
However, when combined,
this mixture of pain, discomfort, and sorrow
retells a story of the past
a phenomenal ancestry

Backs broken and bellies aching
A courageous people in the making
Working to keep mental sanity
Because if you were to fall then so would the rest of our precious humanity
The cuts and bruises were deeper and truer
until day by day there were fewer.
Then there were none...

but there was I.

I learn of what came before me
through published works that came after me.
All the while digesting the fact that I will never be able to join you...
you poor soul that constantly endures days of defeat.
An invariable fight for dignity, strength, and freedom

I now have so many opportunities to be
better, stronger, and even braver than before.
It is time to step up
time to realize that
Change starts with me.

The desire to change is birthed from the womb of hope that thrives in my soul.
How can I be anything less?
If you can bear these burdens then surely I can triumph far greater things.
We can work together to create a potential road of success.
For me and for all of those to come.

I am currently under construction, in case you were wondering.
I may not wear a yellow hard hat or have a tool bet around my waist,
but I promise I am working on some repairs.
I know that after what you have done for me I should be a far better person.
But I have found that I am selfish and I tend to lose sight of what should be important in my life.
I promise you that I am working to correct all my faults.
Those you see, and those I have learned to hide quite well.
I know I have disappointed you, but I am going to change
I promise to make you proud.

We work together to create an image far greater than anything
Picasso or Da Vinci could have conjured up.
We merge into one solid painting of your past, my present, and our future.

Love Always,

Dorian