It's all an idea in my head,
A hopeless, ceaseless, winding thread.
It's all a hoax on a grand scale,
Made of my trust and soon betrayal.
A mockery, but all in jest.
Watch the heart race in my chest.
Faster, faster, see it ache
With every solemn step I take.
Feel the wind rush through the door
As I run forevermore
Through a field white with snow
In a soul that's 10 below.
Is it too ambiguous?
I notice you're now nervous.
Don't you fear, don't you cry.
There's an eye in the sky.
"Every drop of rain you see
Is a tear God cried for me,"
He told me with a sick smile
Growing more ill all the while.
There was something in his eyes
I surely couldn't recognize...
Not quite love, nearly hate..
And how they seemed to calculate!
Every movement, every word
Memorized when seen and heard.
I fell silent as one dumb,
Panicked as my mind went numb.
"Now I am inside your head!,"
Was the last I'd heard he said.
And in the mirror I could see
He was staring back at me.
Christina Sawyer (c) 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
"Forever, for always, my baby you'll be...."
I don't pretend to be an amazing writer. I don't possess infinite literary prowess. All I know is what I feel and a few words to try to describe those emotions/thoughts. I try very hard to enunciate my spirit...to put characters on a bright screen in the place of the tugging on my heart.
This morning I woke up to brilliance. My room was literally bathed in light. You know what's funny? It made me sad. Very sad. Now, I'm a melancholy person by nature. I see that side of things almost immediately. However, a bright morning has always conjured up happiness before. I felt myself start falingl into a familiar little hole I'd tried to place a shabby piece of cardboard over instead of filling it up. I missed her. I missed her with every single ounce of grief a body can hold.
Then the plane passed over our neighborhood. They do periodically. At our old house, it was a daily occurrance like clockwork. One went by in the afternoon around 1:00 pm everyday as Mom was putting the daycare kids down for a nap. I was small too, and I'd lie on the couch just thinking for a few hours. And I would hear the plane pass over. The sun would be streaming in the windows regardless of the closed blinds..just like at Nani's house.
So I recognized where the nostalgic, melancholy emotion was coming from. I missed the security, predictability, and stability of a time long passed. I missed childhood. I also realized that I haven't dealt with my grief over the most significant and lasting symbol of my childhood: My Nani. A large part of me seemed to be buried with her in that Chicago cemetary nearly a year ago among the saints and petty bouqets of nothing. Little pieces of hope, joy, and laughter lay strewn across her grave like the roses we threw. And I have not let go. I thought I had. I swore I had. But I had not. I could not. She was a symbol of so much of the good in my life for so long.
Certain things will always bring me back to a different time...the smell of pasta or garlic bread, big band music, musicals, a sunny room just like hers, roses, Easter,...the list goes on and on and...
It would be foolish to assume I could ever "move on". I never will. Something like that changes a person. I get it. But I'm not ashamed to say I think of her all the time. I'm not ashamed to say that her picture still makes me bawl like a baby. I'm not ashamed to say I'd do anything...anything...just to talk to her again. So, I'm forewarning you that in 18 days, I'm gonna be emotional. No one needs to ask, "It's been a year...aren't you kinda over it yet?". All that shows me is that they've never lost someone this close to them. And I don't wish it on them.
But I know where she is. Yes. I know. How do I know? This woman had the most genuine faith I've ever seen. She LIVED IT. You cannot tell me she didn't. I saw her lay hands on people and they were healed. I saw her prayers answered over and over again. God was listening to a faithful servant. It is because of her I believe what I do today. She was not afraid to change how she viewed God and start going to born-again, full-gospel Protestant churches despite her traditional background. She was not afraid to face the people who belittled her because of it. And neither will I. She taught me to be bold, just like that sunshine I love so much. Though part of me is gone with her, a larger part of me is taken up by all she taught me living on through me...forever irrevocably entwined. For this blessing I can never thank God enough. I had a real treasure in my life that many never experience. So, in 18 days, I will also celebrate her homecoming to her blessed Savior. She is home. She is healed.
-Christina
This morning I woke up to brilliance. My room was literally bathed in light. You know what's funny? It made me sad. Very sad. Now, I'm a melancholy person by nature. I see that side of things almost immediately. However, a bright morning has always conjured up happiness before. I felt myself start falingl into a familiar little hole I'd tried to place a shabby piece of cardboard over instead of filling it up. I missed her. I missed her with every single ounce of grief a body can hold.
Then the plane passed over our neighborhood. They do periodically. At our old house, it was a daily occurrance like clockwork. One went by in the afternoon around 1:00 pm everyday as Mom was putting the daycare kids down for a nap. I was small too, and I'd lie on the couch just thinking for a few hours. And I would hear the plane pass over. The sun would be streaming in the windows regardless of the closed blinds..just like at Nani's house.
So I recognized where the nostalgic, melancholy emotion was coming from. I missed the security, predictability, and stability of a time long passed. I missed childhood. I also realized that I haven't dealt with my grief over the most significant and lasting symbol of my childhood: My Nani. A large part of me seemed to be buried with her in that Chicago cemetary nearly a year ago among the saints and petty bouqets of nothing. Little pieces of hope, joy, and laughter lay strewn across her grave like the roses we threw. And I have not let go. I thought I had. I swore I had. But I had not. I could not. She was a symbol of so much of the good in my life for so long.
Certain things will always bring me back to a different time...the smell of pasta or garlic bread, big band music, musicals, a sunny room just like hers, roses, Easter,...the list goes on and on and...
It would be foolish to assume I could ever "move on". I never will. Something like that changes a person. I get it. But I'm not ashamed to say I think of her all the time. I'm not ashamed to say that her picture still makes me bawl like a baby. I'm not ashamed to say I'd do anything...anything...just to talk to her again. So, I'm forewarning you that in 18 days, I'm gonna be emotional. No one needs to ask, "It's been a year...aren't you kinda over it yet?". All that shows me is that they've never lost someone this close to them. And I don't wish it on them.
But I know where she is. Yes. I know. How do I know? This woman had the most genuine faith I've ever seen. She LIVED IT. You cannot tell me she didn't. I saw her lay hands on people and they were healed. I saw her prayers answered over and over again. God was listening to a faithful servant. It is because of her I believe what I do today. She was not afraid to change how she viewed God and start going to born-again, full-gospel Protestant churches despite her traditional background. She was not afraid to face the people who belittled her because of it. And neither will I. She taught me to be bold, just like that sunshine I love so much. Though part of me is gone with her, a larger part of me is taken up by all she taught me living on through me...forever irrevocably entwined. For this blessing I can never thank God enough. I had a real treasure in my life that many never experience. So, in 18 days, I will also celebrate her homecoming to her blessed Savior. She is home. She is healed.
-Christina
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