It was a dark place she entered
after her father died.
It was not a window
with a bleak view,
no.
It was a darkness that
crawled up her very skin,
chilling her bones
so that they felt brittle
and weak.
It was a metal rake
that scraped her scalp,
from forehead
to spine.
It was an unbearable
screeching in her ears,
a caged bird's
wings beating against
her chest,
clawing at her heart.
She endured this
while she smiled, walked,
worked.
Her hands and nape
broke out in cold
sweat,
but she held on
to everyday gestures
like picking up the phone
and saying, no,
mimicking the word
hello.
No one,
no one would know
this place
except those
who have suffered
this very same
fate.
Today she is unfettered.
But she will not
forget.
There is no light,
no compassion
without re-
membering this
horrific
living
death.
(Dec. 22, 2009)
For one of the bravest people I know.
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/pierreethier/4034207755/
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