You are not here…
You are not here…
Each footstep is that of a ghost who resides in your body…
You are not here…
The mantra does not stick. Like the weather, it is fickle and laughs at such attempts to change one’s existence through words. You are here. And nothing can keep you from it.
She was a thousand miles away from me. The cigarette in her hand trembled like a butterfly caught in a jar. Ashes fell in a flurry of panic and sorrow. Her eyes wandered through me, searching for someone else. Her limbs had become undone, quivering under the weight of a single phone call. In the same room, I stood as a witness. “No, no, no, no,” she said, unable to quiet the storm. “This isn’t about me,” she continued, repeating her mantra. “This isn’t about me…”
“This isn’t about me…”
“This isn’t about me…”
I stood as a witness to her breakdown. I was a thousand miles away. My hands fell awkwardly at my side. I wanted to touch her, to make her real again. I wanted her close, to bring her back to me. My friend, always looking down for fear of heights… Yet I could not bring myself to touch her. My friend, who depends on nothing… She folds her laundry like a ritual in which only she knows the rites to. She holds the madness in one’s eyes still, tying them back down to the earth. She sacrifices herself upon the alter of her home with gladness and sorrow. Even as the pieces fell from her broken frame, she would turn away from me. I could only witness.
“I can handle this,” she said.
“I can handle this…”
“I can handle this…”
Her face has drained of color. I think of my grandfather. As he died, I could not touch him. I could not bring myself to feel death upon the paper-thin shell. My heart leapt from my chest as I watched him breathing. I wanted to hold each breath; to hold each beat of his heart. Yet I could not. I see her, fading from me. The air becomes tight within my throat. I will lose her too.
“No…”
“No…”
“No…”
“This can’t be happening…”
I step forward, awkward and strange yet I continue, reaching into the abyss to find her. Her body responds to warmth, searching for harbor in the seas of her own mind. She curls into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I keep her close, for fear of her drowning. “Take a minute” I say, for both of us. Words begin to rest their excitable wings. She is close again. I hold each breath, each heartbeat until she can come back again. I will not lose her too.
I am here…
