Endless miles of hot asphalt race only inches beneath her. This journey has become all too familiar as she blankly scans the road ahead. The trips back to her parents home each weekend only followed by the same blank canvas before classes start each Monday.
“How long must I do this?” She whispers to the empty seat beside her.
Cracks and hastily planted repairs in the road counting down the miles. She opens the window to awaken her senses. This drive, this repetition that numbs her mind as she struggles to stay awake at the wheel. Thoughts are her only companion along these mindless stretches as even the radio’s blaring madness too fades into background noise.
She stops along a long isolated corridor. The pine forests frame the roads like deeply carved aqueducts where only metal and concrete flow. It is spring and mediocre patches of wildflowers fight the weeds and weekly industrial mowers for a stand of their own.
A lone whit daisy has impaled itself into the broken edges of the roadside. It’s only companions, indescript plastic wrappers and crumbled infrastructure from a tenuous, fragile barrier. Just enough protection for it to take root.
“How long must I do this?” She whispers again.
Her voice falls along the roadside as she pours the last bit of melted ice and moisture from a giant convince store fountain drink around this hopeful yet doomed spark of life. Her gaze surveys the local patches of daisies bunched together living freely and open just outside the shadows of their lanky pine guardians.
Her eyes return to her lone companion at the edge of oblivion wondering how such a beautiful thing could survive and blossom outside of its siblings’ safe haven of meadow-like grasses, weeds and illegible “do not mow” signs. She thinks to herself as if ready to ask the daisy out loud.
“What are you doing here?”
The silence in her mind is only broken by the silence of no answer. Her gaze blurs as she raises her head to the blue on blue sky. Her focus turns to nothing of consequence as she ponders the bravery and utter determination of this lone flower. Her only thought as she turns slowly to return to her drive are of her own life.
“I wish I was a flower.”
She starts the car and quickly disappears into the distance.
Scattered about and disorganized
Thoughts clinging to each other as they pass
A topped off glass swells over
The liquid emotions spilling out around the overburdened vessel
These are my life’s savings
Order and chaos an unmade bed
Falling in and out of lucid skies a comforting breeze comes
Warmth wraps around skin
The infants blanket gently catching every drop of spilled thought
These are my life’s memories
Gently stacked and freshly picked
Budding goals and ripened dreams refresh the open cupboard
Change is coming
The second spring brings new hope to a passing life
This is my life’s dream
Soon I will climb into this skin for the very last time knowing life does not end it begins again and again.
In to this we find beauty
We smell life surrounding
Faded pictures and softened stones
Our souls drift between worlds of our making
Restful dreams that bare new thoughts
Heightened senses awakened by the dance
Restless hearts crash in the distance
The cries of past lives molding on our plate
In to this we plunge unguided
Walls within walls
A maze of unlocked doors
Memories grasping to be heard
Emotions drawing blood as they escape
A calm settles in over the night
The waves of possibilities shaping our lives
Well hung pictures adorn the facades
Battered innocence peeks out form behind heavy curtains
Eyes meet hearts to burn away the fog
I died this year.
But I was never dead.
I passed into some strange history, old memories.
Yet I am still here.
My passing was sudden and unexpected.
But still, I am here this very moment, never having departed.
People have and are morning the loss of me.
I never left them all the time still standing before their eyes.
Yet I died this year.
Only months have passed.
I do not feel this loss of me.
I only feel the loss of others who let me go.
Now I am dead.
But my corpse does not decay.
Every moment breathing, heart beating, thoughts fleeting.
Is this what it is like to die?
I have watched them leave.
One by One.
I saw the signs of death.
Yet I could do nothing to stop it.
I am living with death each day.
I am invisible and forgotten.
But my eyes still see those who buried me.
My heart still feels the love I never gave up.