Except:

Chapter 7.

The day was cool but not too cold. Leaves blew around the large tree in Tray’s father’s front yard, swirled like the tornado in my mind, and I watched a bit before walking off the large front porch. The events of this morning kinda haunted me still, but played like a distant movie I watched long ago, I liked to see life play out that way. I had my pills in my jacket pocket pulled them out finally and shook them, the little white pills fell upon each other and before taking a look, decided to put them back inside my pocket. I didn’t want to step into reality again, and I was about to attempt a rescue mission for my belongings… I needed to focus.

I stepped across the grass and leaf covered yard, and made my way onto the like-wise covered sidewalk, and absently strolled down the street. It would only take around fifteen minutes or so to get to the school. I liked to walk and loved the outside air, made things a bit better when breathing in the sunlight. Like superman and his rejuvenation powers from the sun, I stood a minute and looked up to the sky, … well I’m not superman but I’m loving it anyway. I figured I’d use the side door exit I flew out of yesterday to creep back in unnoticed and unaccounted for. It’s usually locked but the smokers who go in and out usually forget to close it back after putting the stopper in. I finally made my way up there and walked inside the large mettle gate on the side of the building. It was deserted which was the one kindness the universe decided to drop on me for today, I was too damn tired to talk to anyone. I walked inside the opened door great I thought to my self, and blocked out the musty stairwell smell leading to the English department floor. It was ominously quite, I walked up the stairs, trying hard not to make a sound. Got up all the flights and went through the last door to the hall way opening. The hall was clear and there Mrs. Tracy’s room was, 303, door opened. I walked to the room that was a little ways a way, And walked up to the opened door.

There she was. The silhouette of a dream I once had, sitting at her desk with her reading glasses on top of her blond hair pulling her bangs off her face. The rest curled behind her ear. She sat gazing outside her window in longing contemplation, eyes squinted locking tears within, as the sun and breeze from the open window flowed into her face. I stood there watching her, not saying anything. I didn’t want to disturb her focus, she peered out searching for the wonders she let go of. I was beginning to feel the weight of my world fall upon me, making me feel so many different things as I looked at her. Watching from the entrance of her room, not yet inside, not completely outside, just stuck between like my world so often left me. I was frozen, her chin was propped up on her bent hand , the elbow atop the desk.

My lips were dry, as they contemplated all the things they wanted to let go of, but I fought them back and we entangled each other like a wrestling match, me overcome with pain and grief, so weakened by my desire to be loved. Them, using my pain as a platform to betray me as easily as my body so often does. The thought came to my mind feeling as though the battle would be lost, Run away the thought seemed pleasing and I was about to do so when–

“Trisha?” She said, to me, starring like she thought she’d never see me again.

Like I was in her mind and she was searching for me out the window and by some strange accordance wished me inside the school inside her doorway, inside her life once again.

I stood there. Just about to fly from her sight, My lips feeling triumphant and ready to expel all my truth, but I bit the bottom with force and proceeded to fly turning my head toward my wanted direction.

“ wait..” She said. “ please just wait.”

I stopped, my blood filling my mouth and my lips bent down pinned, me about to call the count and the only words that were able to escape were,

“ um..” I said, not sure what to say. “ I left my bag.”

my tears were swelling in my heart,in my throat, in my head, in my eyes. Can’t you save me? The words were trapped in my head. My lips beginning to speak,and me feeling the urge to give in to it all. Of course she can’t save me. What the hell is wrong with me. Save me from what? This life…

“ come here” she said to me.

And beside my self I walked over to her and she opened her arms to me like one movement that we had discussed and silently agreed to. I hugged her so tightly every part of my body screamed and cried and hugged and loved the very goodness within her soul that I could not obtain for my own. I tried to fight it but I couldn’t, the tears streamed down in rivers forcing me to release the illness within me into that ocean of comfort that she was. She held me.

“Trisha.” she said, behind chocked up tears.

She held onto me, just as tightly as I to her.

“Where were you?”

I looked up from her shoulder, and let go of her. Walked over to the desk I usually sit in, by hers. She went and closed the door, walked over to the chair in front of mine, and took a seat.
She moved her head to look down at her fingernails a moment and slowly moved her eyes to my face.

“ I was 14” She said.

My heart skipped a beat. Completely unprepared for that. I had no idea what to say to that. So I didn’t , not wanting to act like I knew what she was talking about. So I sat there.

“ I never told either.” She said, again another shock, I thought the fore sentence was a slip and she’d pretend that she hadn’t said anything.

I met her gaze, wanting to be supportive to her. I sat silently and just listened.

“ Patricia.”

I raised my eye brows in response.

“It’s not your fault”
OK that’s enough.

“ What are you even talking about?” I said.

She smiled, “ Nothing.” I was taken aback by that one! She’s surprising the crap out of me today.

I looked away a bit and turned back to her. The words sinking within me, I was unable to cast them off, not knowing what to feel upon her dismissal of them.

“ Can I ask you a question?” I said to her.

“ Anything.”

“ Do you think I’m crazy?”

“ Not at all”

“ well, it’s cause you don’t know me.”

“I know you have a lot of pain.” I rolled my eyes.

“ I know you have a lot of pain.”I echoed to her.

Her eyes glossed over unbelievingly.

“ I see it hidden behind your eyes every once and awhile”

She didn’t say anything for a moment,

“ You are very insightful.” she said, looking back at me, strong in herself.

“ They want to put me away.” I said, she looked at my eyes, and I felt them water.

“ It’s not putting you away Trisha. Just want to help you.”

“ you know already? How do you already know?”

“ You’re mom th—–”

“Bitch” I said. “she is something else! I can’t stand her!”

“ When are you going?”

“ What makes you think I am?”

“Because if you don’t you will not get help.”

“paleeze… them damned people can’t help me. What they gonna say, ‘it’s bad to hurt yourself,’ fuck them and you too” I said, the words fell out with out my permission.

“ Trisha, why did you hurt yourself so badly?” She ignored my outburst.

“ Because I can do whatever the fuck I want, and you know, I gotta get my shit and get the fu–”

“ No, not this time. Take a walk with me,”she commanded.

“ whatever,”I said.

Calming down a bit, but trying to pretend I wasn’t confused that the offer wasn’t much of a deterrent for me.

We walked together down the still hall. My back pack nestled against my back and my thoughts floating through my mind. We both were silent, nothing much was to be said, emotions and feelings just reflected and bounced between our hearts. I tried to put my deflection tough girl don’t give a fuck wall up but it kept retracting with every attempt. As I stayed in constant battle with my emotions, Ms. Tracy held fast to that same damned note pad with a pen snug within it, along with her dark brown hand purse. As we walked on, I led the way because dodging faces willing to get into mine, asking or complaining, giving me any kind of shit, was more appealing than the alternative.

We traveled down the same exit I came in just a while before, and walked down the sidewalk and street to the cemetery. I had planned to go there after obtaining my belongings anyway so that is where we went. I was slightly surprised that she had no problem with following me. And wondered what she was thinking along the way.

The tree was welcoming and I went over to it. Looking at my sex partner and I smashing our bodies together upon it in my mind. Looked twice at Ms. Tracy to make sure she didn’t see it too. She sat next to me, which also surprised me, and placed her notepad on the leaf covered ground. She showed me the words

‘I care’ she had written to me, and I felt myself ease into her presence.

Hooooonnkkk!!!!

The life within shattered and hide away, reality took it’s place in my world as the cavities of my chest expanded for my heart to be lifted out with out a touch. Leaving me emotionless and ready for this life’s play on chance. The horn burst through the air and into my soul explaining to me that my time with Ms. Tracey had abruptly come to an end, and that dear old daddy had come to collect. It blew in the air the intoxication of the uneasiness that lingered from the gentle caresses of my stepfather and my skin crawled in fear.

“ I have to go”

I said standing up, shaking a bit. The seat calling me back as silently as Ms. Tracy’s eyes, as she recognized the vehicle’s driver. She knew like I knew what the next chapter in this story would be. This drawn out and exhausting piece of reality I so haphazardly took part of and the time now called me back to.

I stood there and looked down at her, downloading my core memory, thoughts and needs into her mind and heart with the pure connection of our silence. She sat there leaning against the tree, her eyes telling me things I didn’t want to hear, and were not ready to come to terms with. And so I turned my body to the direction of the bent and rusty gate my back was leaning against a few days ago. As I took my first steps, she called out to me,

“ Patrisha.”

I looked back.

“ What hospital?”

“ Davenport”

She paused and wrote words down on her note pad stood up and came to me.

Hoooooooonnnkkk!!!!

The horn rang out again, annoying my raging inner child, Ms. Tracy placed a folded note in my hand and kissed my cheek.

“ Stay with me.”

She whispered in my ear, and held tightly to me. I smiled denying her compassion and stumbling reality she called into my world, the sides of my lips curling to the balls of my eyes. A smile as big and bright as a star upon it’s lasting and piercing death, and walked toward my awaiting vehicle.

………………………….

“Get in” he said. “ You need to get ready for tonight”

I didn’t look at his face at all as we drove down to our house. He didn’t say much and I didn’t hear much, and the trees and leaves outside didn’t move much. I couldn’t see much, life didn’t feel like much, and the pressure in my soul didn’t ease much. So I sat there. The note in my hand itching me, I wanted it to say all kinds of things. And my wonder and excitement at the extreme empact on the soul the written word can have, was too strong for me to break the dream of what could be written, into the reality of what was. So I held on to it. Looking at the blue lines of university ruled paper that left small spaces between each line. As a writer I preferred such small spaces, but as a passenger, I yearned for a place to run. Though me wishing I had a place with Ms. Tracy, it was too enormous of a fantasy to give into.

The garage door opened upon our return home, beating into my ears and into the hollowness in my chest. My mother was not yet home, and my eyes lingered in the spot her car would be. His car slowly crept into the space provided for it, and the engine shut down. I sat there a moment, and wondered why I wasn’t moving, as the thought entered my mind I took hold of my belongings. I walked out the car as stepfather’s hand eased me up to a standing position, his gentleness seeping from his eyes to me. But I looked away and walked to the door behind him.

“ get some rest”

He said to me, and I went to my room to obey.

Everything looked as it did before, a blood stain littered the mattress of my bed. I walked into the hall way to find a sheet and blanket and made my bed. Truthfully I was pretty damn tired. I sat atop the black and flower printed sheets and traced the outlines of lilies with my pinkie.

“ My favorite sheets”

The voice spoke at the door. I smiled bashfully

“ were you expecting me?”

My smile vanished and I moved myself closer to the head board where my pillows rested awaiting for my head.

“How is your leg” He said, staring at my flesh through my slacks. I wasn’t very surprised he knew about the cut, so I simply let it bounce from me, and shrugged my shoulders. I sat my back against the head board. And pulled my legs in close to my chest. My mind was blank and my body was unsure if I was safe.

“I don’t want you to be sad.”

He said to me, walking to my bed and taking a seat on my flowers. My heart rested against his words.

He shifted his body fat and laid on his stomach facing my legs, with his dangling off the side.

“ I’m tired”I said, my eyes beginning to water, I fought them back with little effort and felt some leaking from the sides.

“ let me hold you while you rest.”

“ I …. don’t hurt me…”I said, surprising myself.

He smiled, his heart enclosed around his face and mine melted at the caring expression.

“let me hold you?”

“Ok”

He maneuvered himself up to my head board, the wood creaking and bed shifting beneath his weight. I propped my self up and waited until he was finished adjusting. His body was thrice the size of mine a kin to a large gorilla gently enclosing a small child. And his presence brought out the smallest of those children within me. I wanted his warmth without his touch, I wanted his kindness without his caress. I wanted his words without the demented hiss and I needed his love, in whatever way.

~Ward of the State~
© 2010 Taubah Blackman

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walking out the door of ‘ such and such’s” office, the waiting room is a blur to my memory.
But there,
sitting on the sofa
she sat crying hysterically into a brown coarse paper towel. hiding her face in shame. I saw her and paused, her sobs gently echoing into the deaf room. Everything inside of me reached out to her, my soul pleaded to touch hers.

I walked past her, looking at the back of her head and the shivering of her body as i walked out of the door.

It slammed.

Closed.

I stood there. My soul screaming at the weakness in me that feared to lend a touch… a voice… a knowing… what true pain is understood but within those who are pained… I let my soul guide me, the on lookers behind the glass of the appointment desk starring at me as i walked back through the door … questioning. Thinking i had left something undone behind their glass. Separation…

I came up behind her, right at the door… my soul lead my hand to tap her gently on the shoulder. …

” Do you need a hug?”

She nodded ever so earnestly.
As if all her needs,
her wants,
her pleads,
and her crys
to deaf ears reached over to love her.

” Yes” she said, just slightly above a whisper, her lip trembling in anticipation.

I quickly walked over to her, around the row of chairs and sofas. She stood and all of her heart and soul embraced me. My aura connected to hers, my soul reaching out to hers and releasing all the healing it could muster. Whispering voicelessly ‘ i love you’.

” It is ok love. … I know sweetie”

i held her tightly, my body crashing against her frame and hers against mine, as if to beg me ” take it away..”

” God has given me more than I can bare..”

” mmm” the words seeped inside me…
the kindling of like hearts dripping in the pain that is.
I caressed the back of her blond hair wrapped in a semi tight ‘scrunchy’ as i often call them. Calming her with my voice and calling on the energies and the warmth of my Beloved.

” I know love. it feels like that some times doesn’t it… more often than not even.”

Standing there, barely noticing people walk in and out of the waiting room i stood there, embracing her with all i had to give. .. all i had to own.

silence fell between us, all but her sobs, her tears and dripping nose blending with the fabric of my shirt. I stood there holding her, her body as lucid as her aged, silken skin. We stood there, no one could know how long, my soul did not care, nore did my body. one of the only times both in me are connected so securely so intensely, when i am faced with another in need.

She let go of me, thanking me, letting go slowly, hesitantly, believing that the presence that was in front of her, would soon despair. leaving her as all the others did. Wanting to hold onto forever… she looked up and sat down slowly.

” Would you like me to sit with you for a while?” Yes she replied so small as a voice of a lonely child, small… hurt… hiding in the body of an ageing woman. I smiled at her and she placed in mine her soft hand, soft as my grandmothers were… grandmother…

” Where did you come from?”

I smiled at her, knowing what her words laced with meaning wanted to know.

” Just there” I pointed through the closed door leading to the offices.

I smiled.

” I have no one in the world.” She said, looking at me in amazement still, as if i was a bodiless figure, her eyes tried hard to capture. I smiled warmly at her, as if she said she had a beautiful day today… or her granddaughter was pregnant with a brand new baby girl. I nodded silently, knowing her words were not meant to be matched…

Her eyes leaked, pouring as she looked at me. Trying to understand why… why i had come to her.
“ Do you work here?” she sobbed through the question.
“ No” I said smiling into her eyes.

” where did you come from?” She asked me again.

I smiled.

“Right through those doors” I said.

Saying within them ‘we are the same.’
She looked disbelievingly.

“Who are you?” She asked me, squeezing my hand.
” A friend” I whispered to her.

Where did you come from, she asked again squenting into
my face… searching for a myserious being behind my eyes that before
she could not see.

“ No where special.” I said gently, caressing her wrist with my free hand,
hers caught between mine. As if to say ‘we are one’

” The pain is just too much.. the pain it wont stop.”
her body shivered, the sharpness of the words cutting deeply
in each expression of them.

” I know love. But you will get through this”

” How long have you been in therapy?”

The question swept through my body, putting my own inner-world on the table.

I looked at the door that I spent 45 mints to an hour behind, and felt the sway of my consciousness as I wondered what to say.”

I looked back at her and smiled

” A month.. or so.. maybe more, never can tell with time.”

The words slipped out from me, half truth. I had only spent a month
or so… with this woman.

She looked at me. I smiled warmly again to her tears.

” I have been in therapy all my life…65 years, it will never get better. I have no one in the world.”

I trembled a bit, wanting to say something about my Beloved.
Because she mentioned Him earlier, i decided to slip it in.

” He is here.”

She cried at my words. The mentioning of the One who ‘allowed her pain to form, and refuses to lift it from her soul’.

She shook her head from side to side ” He has forgotten me. The pain will never go away. Unless i make it.”

mmmmm I knew what she meant.
I have never seen the eyes of a person so sincere in such a statement. I have never seen the pain of a person so desperate to escape it. I have never seen the trembling lips of a person whispering those words. Only their voices.. cracking and quivering behind the phone I keep by my bed in case of midnight calls. Only the hard breathing and the pleading… apologizing pained children caught in between reality and time. Reaching out to a faceless stranger….. a faceless stranger…..

” How?”
I said to her gently. Smiling softly at her, lovingly and warmly..
as if she told me she had picked my favorite flowers from the side of a pleasant park.
She did not answer, and i did not ask again. She went on to talk. Some about how she lived, some about her child hood. I sat there listening. I wondered inside the pockets of silence, who her therapist was and where they might be. I had never waited so long myself in this room.

” Why are you here?”
She asked me. Her fingers prying.
I didn’t have any words to speak in answer.
” Well you know…just stuff” i said warmly, managing my emotions to send her only healing energy.

As the energy of healing seeped out from me, her pain, that swirled within her unbalanced chakra’s settled, trapped inside her aura, leaked into me. A side affect I have not yet learned to concur…I embraced it.

” I am going to shoot myself in the head when i get home.” She lifted her chin and put her fingers together to simulate a gun and pulled the finger-trigger. her words echoed inside my heart. They dripped with the aching need to be heard… to be saved… and to be DONE.

My eye brows lifted in response. And I continued to smile.
I let my soul exhale, released her pain and let the words flow through me…
Portions of my lessons gradually coming into play.

“Yes” I said with a smile,

” That is an option. That would be your choice”

I heard myself echo words that were spoken to me once when i was so bent on saving another from ending her life. I was told

” She has to realise that it is no one else’s decision, only hers. Taking away her choice, holding her life in your hands, does not help either of you.”

By telling her this was her own choice, I gave that burden back to her, and reminded myself whose it belonged to.

” But you have other choices as well” i said.

She looked up at me.All the wonder of a questioning soul, searching for answers. Not expecting such a response, seemed to me, she’s never had anyone lovingly kick her ass.

In the hospital they say;

” Suicide is not an option, it is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

It is like a recording. The alarm goes off within the therapist, the doctor, the whatever professional you are talking to, and all you say after those words are words of an insane suicidal maniac that must me stopped, restrained and medicated. No real discussion about it, or reiterating the ‘ why.. or why not.’

In my head ( though I am not one for suicide myself, not that I did not attempt as a child.) saying;

“ Suicide is not an option, it is a permanent solution, to a temporary problem.”

What my brain responds with;
“ So you’re saying it IS a solution”

That it is a permanent solution only tells me that it is a solution. And that is all I want.
Temporary is a word that many do not have a concept of. In the mist of pain, unrelenting pain, that is so much more than a slight aching, or semi-distant throb… there is nothing else but that pain, trapped inside of yourself like a bubble. The repeated robotic words of a doctor or a halting voice of a therapist sometimes simply bounce off the bubble and reverberating back within that, expressing that desire is not a good idea, one not to be done. Causing the pain and the need to fester and spoil rotting siletnly and secretly until ……

when the depth of it is an abyss of years upon years that fall into each other, telling a soul that their pain is only temporary,… somehow feels overlooked, unheard and disregarded.

Frustrating…

No… tell me something different.

Something that catches my soul, something that feeds my intellect. But even then…. it is a choice..

When everything seems strange and wrong, upside down and in pieces… the voices around you, looking from a distance push the question “ aren’t you on meds?” As if to say, “ You should be over it by now, or up your meds”

But the meds only let you breathe a little calmer while walking into a dark room, laced with knives and holes of abyss. When your view is contorted, by chemical imbalances, years of conditioning… the meds may help a good deal… but the problem still lies in its wake.

I was told by a dear dear person to my heart that, not taking meds in such a difficult time of healing, is like putting a band-aid on a broken leg.

But what they don’t point out and try to hide, is that taking meds and expecting to have it all go away, having the doctors and the onlookers believe that you should be ‘normal’ now, everything is ok now… stop faking and move on now. And if not, up the dosage!! they sing like a chant in a musical on Broadway. The doctors in full-swing writing out the feel good pills in a 10 minute session in order to keep it mov’n and promote the drug they like the best…..

Is like, taking vicaden for that broken leg without fixing it, and being expected to walk upright upon it.
REDICULOUS right? But that is what is expected. Only difference is. Our broken legs are hidden. Deep deep, and most of us have found the ability to walk upright without meds, and without a wince from the never ending pain. No one sees the limbs that are ripped/ ripping off, Only the water leaking from your eyes. The inability to move at times when the twisted limb is too heavy to carry, the anger that screams out of every pore, and the horrible crys of pain and fear, by even the slightest touch.

“ why do you cry? What is wrong with you…why are you wincing, limping.? You should be grateful for your life, your world.. you are very blessed.”

“ But my legs are broken and it hurts.”

“ o, well here, take this pill and try to be grateful for you life. You can not use a broken leg, as an excuse not to walk.”

“ WHAT!! I was sitting here minding my own business and YOU asked me what was wrong…. if you are not prepared to hear the answer, stay away from the question.”

the concept of love, the fear of touch, the knowledge that years in the past… are in the past… and lost to you now. The seeing the world through a lens sculpted and seared into your make up… meds can do much… but it is a choice to do more…

a choice to suffer through amputation… because the years upon years of walking on broken bones have caused rotting, decay, all the years that the blood from the broken skin where the large chunks of split and splintered bone broke through, was simply whipped away by a napkin, wet paper towel. Or unnoticed completely as you have been running away from an enclosing bolder….All of a sudden it stops, and your fatigue, acing unbelievable pain from your broken limbs and the Deloria from the excessive struggle, will, and all else it took… just to keep running…. and then… there… above all…
eating you at the bottom most depths of the person you now are…knowing all the years you’ve been running… You’ve never been able to rest a moment and live. The enclosing bolder threating your life, took all your attention, all your energy.. just to stay just barely ahead. All the moments and the distance your ran, the places you went, you could not notice… and there is no way in any understanding of time, for you to go back. Go back there… go back there and it all be different. Accepting that…moving past that…. and looking fowared from the shattered horricane torn, unimaginable damage that the bolder it self caused. The shock of it all, just looking at it is a jerk to the intire system. OOOO…. What damage….and standing in the middle of it all… open land as far as your little eyes can see, and your little knees can run.. because your legs refuse to work now. there in the middle, you stand there… looking. As the small rare patches of people walking by who actually notice that there is a wreck and more over, that there is someone inside of it… tell you “ you are the only one, who can fix it all.” some hand you a broom… some a dustpan… some give you a vacum cleaner… some trash bags come from some place… but all you can do is stand there… in shock…. “ what world is this?”

So make the decision to amputate the leg…. to save your life… Or keep your leg…. your beloved leg that has stuck with you for so many years… has at times comforted you simply to know that, even through all the broken pieces…. it is still there…the only loyalty your world has ever presented. The only love your heart has ever been touched with. Cutting it off, the places you’ve gone with the legs, the moment you cried and the pain your indored.. cut it off…CUT IT OFF DAMN IT… Or Sallow the vicodens to give the illusion of a mended wound, until the rot kills you itself……. it is a choice.

I looked into her longing eyes, letting her know with my all that, yes i do hear you, and yes i do understand, but there is more to this world than the bubble in which you live.

” What purpose would that serve?” I asked her in order for her to reflect.

” will stop the pain” she said wiping her face again at the dripping tears, clear, pure.

” I see..” I said.
” killing yourself, you will never feel love, acceptance, kindness. This time here with you and the feelings that rush through you when good things miraculously happ’n will never be a thing you experience.

” I have never had love” she said to me, i smiled at her.

The frozen door swung open. A woman unknown to me stepped out and called the stranger’s name. She stood… the stranger… weeping, holding my hand, knowing in her heart of hearts she would never see me again. I smiled at her..

” I will never forget you.” She said to me. ” Nor me, you.” I said.
I watched her as she disappeared behind the door.

I smiled.

My bag was in front of me, the women behind the glass looked at me speechless again as I stood and walked out of the door.

I stood in the hall way, listening to the faded voice that said over again

” i am going to shoot myself in the head when i get home.”

Slowly i walked… very slowly.. I told myself.
” It is out of my hands.”
“That therapist will deal with it.”

I walked small steps again down … slowly down the brown carpet. Seeing her eyes… my soul did not let me leave. It turned me around and walked back into the office. But why? i went up to the glass and smiled. They looked at me like i was crazier than my visits there revealed. I stood there silent, my arms crossed on the counter.

” What is it Taubah?” she said with a slight laugh.

” Um” I said… unsure of what my head and mouth were going to come up with. Giving the receptionist such information would be horrible. And without much help.

” Can I have a piece of paper?”

“sure sweetie, going to write such and such a letter?”

“No” I said, and left it at that. She looked at me blankly and handed over some paper and a pen.

One good thing about these places, no matter what you do they think it is normal, because it is a given that you are a crazy, no need to wonder “ what the hell is wrong with that girl, sitting in here for two hours.” or “ that girl is so hyper, what the hell is she on.” Everything you do is put off on you being cookoo… No matter what your outer shell exposes.
I sat there in the waiting room…. waiting

I sat there and wrote down on one of the small note pad sized papers:

” The woman i just spoke to, told me that
she is going to shoot herself when she got home.
I am telling you because
i don’t want her to die, i love her.”

i looked at the note and felt stupid. How informal and dry….
I put down another piece of paper on the side of the sofa, where an end table sat… brown, wooden. I told myself, i would sit here, until this stranger returns. Make sure she spoke to her Therapist about it, and make sure she will be ok. I wanting only that she be ok…. what we all want.
I sat there in that time and wrote a poem that slipped out the side of my heart, and the pockets of insanity of my brain:

Pains deception

In here, the darkness grows.
As slowly as clouds drifting by.

In here, my soul explodes,
louder than the raging sky.

Your touch… your voice as soothing,,
as ripples swaying in oceans still.

Where the blueness of its melody,
breaths warmth to tears that heal.

In here, the darkness grows,
as my sorrows drift ahead.

as my emptiness plays horrors
spitting deep into this dread.

In here, the voices scare me, as they float
upon my fears.
As they part my world into bubbles
with the pain of stolen years.

“ Come with me!,
sweet caresses on your heart.
For the blessings dripping past your eyes,
wont leave your soul to part.

In you, I see true softness,
the kindling of Spirit’s song
The deepest whispers calling you,
swift words that drift along.

For you, the stranger empties,
her soul to strengthen your.
,
to give visions dipped in hope,
slipping under bolted doors.

To sway along the currents of the,shifting
fogs of time. And search in hidden dew drops,
for sweet serenades to find.

Float past the pain in struggle, letting go
the stories passed.
Letting lose the childhood questions
the little girl in you still asks.

Step forward into moments
where the open world is free
find comfort in the slots of time
the pain recants its plea.

“ O come to me,” it says
trying to over through my hand
“ come to me your truest love
lay softly in warm sand.

Sit happily under all my gifts,
you’ve yearned and struggled for

know with me you’ll have the love,
and truth your craving heart adores”.

“Such pain is silent whispers guiding softly in your night,
a trusted, patient lover, pressing horrors to your sight.

But see, the love it gives you,
comes hefty in its price.

“ for all my loyalty”
it says,
” you must gift to me, your life.”

~Taubah Blackman
a loving stranger
9-8-09

Two hours in some change I waiting for her. Things floated in my mind, but not from my tongue… And there she stood at last, standing by the dim light of the offices behind her. Her face bent down, looking for the answers she may have missed on the carpet my her feet. I sat there without a word, until she looked up to find me sitting there.

There was another inside the waiting area,who starred at the sight.

She froze in her spot, starring at me. I smiled at her.

“ O my God” she said out of her mouth, it fell out without so much of an ok from her brain.
I smiled.
She trembled over, shaking from her toes to her feet, and I stood once again embracing her.

“ What are you doing here.”

“ Waiting” I said, walking her out of the door
she couldn’t walk much, her tears and her body trembling, we hugged again and again
in the hall way.

“ What are you doing here? I was in there for two hours.”

“ Yes” I laughed softly, “ it was a long wait.”

Stopped in the hallway, I remembered the larger purpose of me wait
and said to her….

“ Did you tell your therapist?”

Looked at me with fear and pain… fear of her self inflecting fate to come, and pain of being reminded of it.

“ No” she said.

“ Why not?”

“You know why.” she said to me. I did know why, but I wanted to hear what she had to say.
“ No I don’t”

She pushed the wrinkled up tissue to her face , red eyes, red nose read lips, the tears pour down her face.
They will put me in hospital, I don’t want to go back.”

I smiled again… a good trick when you are lost for words a moment.

“ Yes.” I said in a whisper, “ I know the feeling.”

“What are you going to do when you leave here”

“pick up my dead cat”

I nodded sympathetically and softly., she had told me the sick and sad story of the horrid death of her deariest cat, the only living being on the earth, who had died this very day.

“ And after that” I said, “ What are you going to do when you get home?”

She looked at me, death seeping back from her eyes… looking into my eyes, trying to see through me

“ You are an angel” she said to me.

I smiled warmly, at the beautiful ridiculousness of the statement.

“What are you going to do love?” I repeated.

An expression of shock fell over her face of the knowledge of what was to come. She lifting her hand once more
voicelessly shaped it into a gun and sat it under her chin pressed up against her chin. I looked at her, my ability to be ok slipping away.

“ I have a gun” she said, as I listened, nodding my head.
“ I keep it under my bed, I am going to use it.”
She looked at me and then in the distance starring off to some place she wished she could be.

I suspected before… but as not so sure… but at that moment… I knew who she was. I knew exactly who she was.

I looked at her when she came back to face me, realising that her dream of death had not yet come to be. I looked her in the eyes deeply, expressing my seriousness, my stern more dominant quality, …

“ You know, I can not let you do that…. And you can hate me.”

I spoke those words, knowing what I was doing in saying them. But it was harder and harder to not suck in the pain and the responsibility to save her by being her everything…. her everything..Because what she yearned so desperately for, and needed so passionately was not just something, or someone, or a hug. But just like the most of us, ….she needed a childhood of all that a child dreams of and deserves to have…. All of the safety and love, the embraces and the simple feeling that… it is ok. That no matter what… it is ok. A mothers patience… and mother protection… a Saviour … when you are a child, you are expected to be looked after, and tak’n care of. It is the right of the child, the need of the child. But as an adult. All such needs and rights go into the winds. Willingly or unwillingly… unwillingly…

“ I can not hate you, I love you.”

I looked at her as she cried and I told her I love her, and that
there is no doubt or speculation in it. I love her sincerely.

I lifted my hand up, gesturing for her to take it.

“ come with me, back inside “ I said to her
She trembled horribly.

“ No, no I can’t I can’t do that.”

“ Come with me back inside, you don’t have to say anything, just stand there and let me talk.”
“ No , I don’t want to be locked up, I don’t want more meds, and these pills and those pills, I can’t do it anymore…”

I looked at her. My knowledge of how this would end, coming to a head.

“I have to see my cat before they freeze him.” she said to me.

“Will you come with me” She asked, softly.

I pointed to the door she dreaded, “come with me back inside, and yes I will go with you.”

“No they will put me away… you ever have shock therapy?’

“No” I said to her….

“ It hasn’t changed since they first started doing it, it is horrible. One therapist wanted me to do it, but you are never the same again. I can’t go back.”

We stood there a bit

“ come with me to get my cat?” she said again.

“ Come back into the room with me, and I will do that.”

“Afterward. After I see my cat.”

I looked at her, knowingly, she turned slightly away.

“ I can’t do it … I just can’t, I have to see my poor cat.”

she pulled her hand away, I did not fight her.

She walked off down the hall, I stood there. Asking Allah what if anything I should do.

Without a word I walked and caught up with her, with a word she turned around and again
surprsied I was there.

“ will you come with me?” She asked full of excitement and love.

“ On one condition” I said to her.

“ We return here and you come with me, back to that office. I will stay with you.”

She slightly nodded her head.

“ Do you have a phone number?” she asked me.

“ yes I do” I said, not budging to go into any further relationship with her.

“promise me” I said to her.

“ I have to see my cat.” I looked at her… She stood there. Spoke about her life. Her this, and her that. I stood there listening. She cried and cried.
My body began to shake… I knew nothing I could say or do could touch her enough to over come the other 65 years of pain she held on to.

I bit my bottom lip.

“ here” I handed her the poem. We stood outside and the warm air was so
sweet and comforting, my heart could have rested upon it, if it weren’t so heavy.

“ read it” I requested. And she opened it and did just that. Meanwhile, two women and
a small child walked down the way.

“ OO look at the baby” I said. She smiles and looked back. “ I hope she has a good childhood.”
“Me too” I said.

“ You know, even if you didn’t live for yourself, there are many children and others who would love
someone to love them.”

“ I have no one to love me” she said. “Do you need someone to love you, for you to love another?” I asked her.

“Yes” she said. I fell silent. Coming to terms with an acceptance that, she will soon go away. But I was not ready for her to slip away.

…. I bit my lip hard, the bottom in my mouth. I watched the leaves in the far away tree blow, and the sun dance around the water along a man made lake fenced in next to the office.

“ What a beautiful day” she said. “ Yes it really is. My girls would love it, the sun and all. Love to play with them outside and hear them laugh.”

She smiled… and it drifted away. Maybe what I said was more harmful than good. Buti wanted her to see ….

“ I am here, for sexual abuse”

I said to her. The words left me, I pushed them out with a force, and felt tired when they left. I watched them sway around the fog of time I began to fall into upon releasing those ……. unimaginable words. Words, never before uttered by my tongue. I looked her in the face when I said it. And smiled. Wanting that she saw that it could be overcome, that it could be fought. That we could do it together. That I am here too. That we stand in the same place. On the same day, in the same crap hole. ….. don’t sink…..

“me too” she said. She began spilling out a slew of information, details that after 65 or so years, still pushed from her a pain… a pain …. ooo so much pain. I listened, I listened with all my heart. Hearing the words, knowing the feelings that come with them. I stood there listening. Her hair blew around in the wind… her deep blue eyes looked in my eyes, I looked back. I was not afraid. I was not afraid of her pain. I am not afraid of this world not many dare to walk upon. Not when it comes to another. I will listen and go as deep as I am needed to go. But I will not go deeper for you, than you will go yourself. I will become lost in my need to help you. And you would become lost in your need to feed.

“I have struggled all my life to live.” she said “and i am going to throw mine away.”.

“Take this step with me. Don’t hurt yourself after so many years….”

“ I am ending the pain.” “No, you are not, you are only creating pain for others.”

“ I have no one to care about me.”
“ I care” I said, “ I would be very hurt if you left here, with this promise….

“ I have never been loved by anyone the way you love me.”

“ And you never will if you kill yourself.”

“take one step with me, here, “ I pointed to a small leaf that was a step or more away from where we stood.
“ This one step sweetie. You have a choice.”

“No” she said. I didn’t say it again.

“ I am going to shoot myself in the head. I already have a letter the priest. I know that when I do this, my soul will go to hell and be tormented. But I can’t take the pain.

I looked around the lawn, the perfectly trimmed grass that only law around offices such as these. Dark deep green.
The green melted into the colors of the road, the road melted into the colors of the side walk. And the sidewalk melted into the invisible blood that leaked from this strangers head. I looked at her.

“ will you go with me to see my cat.” she asked me again. The question pierced in me the knowledge that she…. that she has made her choice. And seeing her cat will seal the deal. Though only Allah knows. Her car was close by, her face looking at me. I can not go further with you from this step unless you decide to get help. I will not stand and watch you kill yourself. It will be too painful to me. I love you, I don’t want you to die.

“ I tried about three times before. I took 95 pills and woke up the next morning as if I took a Tylenol”

“ Told my priest that I don’t care what he does to the body, burn it and cremate it. Told him not to tell anyone about it.”

She was hyping herself up I could see it and I recognized it. It was like a drug she was getting ready to taste. Her body was getting ready to embrace… her heart was getting ready to succumb to. It is the same look I get, when I talk about cutting. The same response my body gives when I think about the blade, and the same softness that warms and seeps into me, when I describe it. The fascination. I saw it in her, as she talked more and more about it. She finished the poem. Tears dripping.

“ How do you pronounce your name?”

“ Toe ba” I said. And she looked down at the folded piece of paper and put it in her pierce. I will always remember you Taubah, will cherish this poem forever. “

“ Forever?” I said, slightly a bit more sarcastic than I meant to.

“ You mean for the next few hours? Is that what forever means to you?”
she nodded. “ Yes..”

“ Will you come with me to see my cat?” she asked me again.

“ No” I said, “ Not unless you seek help”She turned her head and murmured
“ I have to see my cat” walked away full of tears, crying hard. Sitting her
I see her face pouring out it’s tears. I see her fingers pressed to the underbelly of her
chin, and her shocked and desperate look she pierced me with…

I stood there and I watched her leave. My emotions at some place foreign to me. I told myself
that I will not let this stop me from reaching out to others. And after I said that to myself, my heart
screamed in pain. Screamed in agony that I was not willing to hear. Half way to my car, the tears seeped out, I saw her face over and over. All she wanted was to die. I got to my car and I started to cry. To cry not because
I feel guilty, not because… I felt her deep and piercing pain, not because I watched her walk away… But because to me, she was everyone who gave up on themselves. Evey one who dead along the road. All the ones who took their own lives, for desperate needs to end the … the life they were given. Her face, was the face to me, of the faceless ones, the faceless, pleading the faceless needing.

But what’s more, what is above all in the entire world. Is that I survived, that the name means that, others did not. That this road is harder than I have not yet been able to admit.

As I drove, trying to flee, I was overcome, the car heat, the emotions in me pushed up and through me so hard my head leaned back and wailed, wailing, screaming from my soul. I heard it, I saw it… I saw myself, over come … over come with the beauty that she posses, and the fear that kept her there… kept her where I refuse to go. I wailed so hard, my body jerking, hitting the seating uncontrollably. I breathed trying to hold in, hold it in while I drove down the busy street. I could not stand with her, because I could not die with her. The faces of so many others i’ve know, I’ve fell across their paths. That my soul could not walk away without a fight from. Watched them decay, stood by them through their ascent into nothing, into oblivion.

I was told once, by one of my spiritual teachers along my road to learning about myself and my calling… desire to heal. Told me that I can not take in everyones pain. I can’t absorb it, can not take it away. That I have to learn between theirs and mine, that I have to identity and clear my aura of theirs. I understood that. She then spoke and said that, some I would have to turn away. Watch leave, watch slip away through the fingertips that you so desperately want to hold to. I couldn’t believe she said that to me. It was so heartless, so cruel it is no cruel she said to me. And the more you encounter souls, the more you will understand. the more you will be wise to close off the core of you while leaving open enough for the healing energy to be released. Healing others is not taking in their pain. Uplifting them indefinitely, while they refuse to stand alone. But to guide them to a place they can live… thrive.

Healing is not a bandage that covers the wound, or nor the wipe that sweeps over it to clean the top oozing that is presented on the top. Healing is the journey you purposefully take inside yourself. Falling deep within whatever you are faced with there, concurring it and letting it go, no matter how long it may take. Is the work to fight through and over the pain, knowing it still maybe lingering at the end of your life, but being able to live with it there, no longer in shock. No longer in denial. Healing is stepping out side of the room when you don’t really feel like it, and putting down the blade when you would rather embrace it. It is calling on those who hear you, and trusting them to guide you in order that you will stand on your own. It is not finding love in the others who send warmth and support your way, but finding their love and and support as inspiration to find your own. Look inside yourself , in the mirror and feel the fear that lingers then, run away with all the shock, but return to face it again. Healing is pushing and growing, growing and discovering who you are, who you are now, … some how changing your focus from then… to now… what ever now might be. And embrace whatever the you might be…. All the struggling souls crushed every day by a different hand, crushed and filled with pain and tears. Those persons looking to what thriving may one day seem to be.

I see her, and I love her, and I think of her and my heart burns for her. Never have I grieved for another soul, another being in such a way. Within her I see me, I see us. I know her pain… I live that pain. I run and fear and hate that pain. I embrace that pain in o so negative ways, and I search into that pain. I want her to find the strength to strive to find her strength. I do not grieve for her because I blame myself for her, or that I believe that there was something more I should or could have done. I grieve for her because she is a searching soul, desperate to find a home. Desperate to find piece…. like me desperate to be whole. And as I sit here at 12:34 am
I think of her. My body aching from my sitting in this spot for hours on end. That moment , that moment I knew who she was, I knew exactly who she was. I knew she struggled with sexual abuse I knew it I could see it when I walked past her the first time, her face inside that paper-towel. I knew who she was, and I could not let her go too soon.. she was a member of my family. Struggling with my own grueling pain, my own silent hell. My own searching.. and I have to believe, with everything I am and have. With everything I believe in that, there is more. There is more. And I knew it, I knew it without a doubt in my mind, when I saw my child leave me body and breathe her first taste of air, her first seconds of life. The laughter of my children and the face of my husband… our family.. the world outside the world inside my bubble…There is more to pain, there is more to pain. Even if my pain never in this life goes away, I will know that there is more to reach for even still….

That moment , that moment I knew who she was, I knew exactly who she was. I knew she struggled with sexual abuse I knew it I could see it when I walked past her the first time, her face inside that paper-towel. I knew who she was, and I could not let her go too soon.. she was a member of my family. A sister of mine I met for half a day, a sister whose name I never learned, and loved with in three minutes into it or relationship.

My dear sweet sister.
I have never cried for a soul as much as i cry this day for you. You, nameless stranger my heart burns for. Nameless.. your blue eyes piercing my soul, reflecting in it the faceless children death stole away… The world so hungry for the laughter, forgot the silence of the pleading. i have never cried for a soul, as i cry this day for yours.

But you strived as much as you could, and lived the way you knew how, with the resources you were given. You did not ask for your pain, you did not ask for you past… and you did with it all, what you were able to do. For me the pain transcends physical, cuts deep into the core of me, because it is what I yearn to heal… We are called survivors….

Is it a question of that I believe?

For I am not in despair,

not one to which I drown my hope.

The Divine I pray will forgive and

guide, be pleased with and

reassure me to His way.

But like many _ I fall,

stumble to my questions_ and fear.

Maybe misunderstands and wrongly guided by others than

the Guider.

But have no wonderment of my faith

though my words are filled with grief and plead-

these pleads are a sign of hope. For if hope

did not exist within me, where would my desire to plead

come from?

play for me the melody, to dance the pain away.
stroke in me the essence, that pleads my soul to stay.

and in it, in me, find the laughter, truth did steal.
and find inside this core, an emptiness surreal.

for truth but steals loves’ presence, as you sleep with eyes of wonder.
to find the darkness fall inside, like trembling hearts of thunder.

and they wonder at the echo’s, of the dangers in my mind.
while i lay inside a shell of years, to fight the flow of time.

indulging in the questions, of what life we live? What for?
in yearning do these answers flow, from pouring thoughts that roar.

in You i smell the sweetness that the strangers travel to.
in You the drops do linger from the flowers kiss of dew.
in You my soul does run to find the truth it sought in fear.
in You my world does come to find the secret in its tear.
in You the joyous music arises from visions far,
to sway along the currents of the blast of evening’s star.
in You the knife does slip away before the tears crawl down in red.
in You the strokes of softness come to stroke my weary head.
in You i find the answers as my heart does cry in shouts
in You the gift of life does breathe to let the demons out.
in You the showers cover me in the down pour of this night
in You i find a distant dream of a child’s innocence and light.

© 2009 Taubah Blackman

A dream based in some form, a reality.

It’s dynamics because each fantasy- or aspiration, conspire technicality.
What would be if desire became reality?

If nothing but your perfect world existed? What would be the purpose of living?

What would be the test of life?
Maybe the Divine created the heavens and the earth for us to be amazed at it’s existence.

Our purpose is to praise our Creator, because He has painted out to us His magnificence in all that He has established.

If you ponder over our world, places, and strives, they all evolve around our being- so cry and fall in submission to the Divine.

Satan spoke a word of arrogance and dared to place on earth the question for mankind to choose which way to turn. Right or wrong?

Great is Creator- and wise is He in all that is all.
His plan is so magnificent that it falls out to exact when wrong seems wrong but happens so all can be right.

And yet we wonder ‘why’ as if our minds could grasp these questions.

‘Why’ is beyond our minds capacity. Our trails make us only see for ourselves-

in the mists of now and only. But patience will unveil all questions- for the Divine knows all that is all…

~written in 2002

and the air circles the drifting of my soul
longing for cleansing

the silence as i breathe and the crystals
calm and soothe
embracing the secrets of my
rhythm and groove

the sounds entangle and the sun blinds in new light
as i stare into emptiness my soul takes new flight

there inside the density of the frost gone away
my yearning rekindles to beg this bliss to stay

have no worry for each night wont last too long
each day will follow as commanded
and capture your spirit in the dawn.

the light, it moves like fire across the sky
filling my mind with knowledge i can’t deny

the moments creep and in stillness i surrender
as my body captures the currents to a world i now remember.

it is here, and the reality is in bloom
describing my awareness of a state i fled too soon.

with one thought, one light that comes to all
as we uplift this vibration to the hearts who can hear
our call

it so passes, and the moment begins to drift
while my thoughts return to this world
i hold to this graceful myth

are we here? is this time real and true??
are these visions of my mind a story
to share with you?

am i real, this feeling i swear i have
i doubt what is seen
as my awareness begins to laugh.

“you fool, this is your true state
relax into this love
don’t begin to hesitate

don’t question with your mind
that which your heart has seen.
don’t reject with your logic
the pure state of your being.

and as you stand upon that mountain of your visions
releasing the fire of true light

your heart will then awaken, your dreams are but guidance
to new life.”

© 2008 Taubah Blackman

Nighttime stories with Uncle Ben
Like “Little Red Riding Hood,” but then…
The big, bad wolf he’d pretend to be
And ravish her body till she would bleed
And nobody cared, and nobody cried
There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Old Mister Brown, he knew her well
Knew it wouldn’t matter if she should tell
His tongue in places it shouldn’t have been
She felt so dirty, for she had sinned
But nobody cared, and nobody cried
And the little girl just crawled inside.

“Suck on this and I’ll give you a treat!”
Her dad had said on that lonely street
She did his bidding till he left one day
Used and abused then tossed away
He never cared, he never cried
For his little girl who just wanted to die.

A man named Marvin with her uncle Blake
And the little girl he decided to take
The terror filled her soul and heart
Till her mind and body split apart
But nobody cared, and nobody cried
As the little girl shriveled up inside.

Her step dad beckoned from the hall
He took her body and fondled and mauled
He told himself, “It won’t hurt much!
And look, she even likes my touch!”
And nobody cared, and nobody cried
For the little girl who was dying inside.

Then there was her uncle Ralph
Who kissed her hard upon the mouth
Caught by her mother who began to yell
“You’re just a slut, you’ll go to hell!”
She didn’t care, she didn’t cry
For her little girl that would rather die.

Others came and abused her still
Friends, neighbors, her grand-dad, Bill
The memories and tears she wrapped up tight
And safely tucked them out of sight
Because nobody cared, and nobody cried
For the little girl who was dying inside.

She knew heartache by day, terror by night
She couldn’t scream and she couldn’t fight
She hated herself so very much
And began to fear everyone’s touch
But nobody cared, and nobody cried
As the little girl just died inside.

~by Annie

O Lord,
Whatever share of this world
You could give to me,
Give it to Your enemies;
Whatever share of the next world
You want to give to me,
Give it to Your friends.
You are enough for me.

O Lord,
If I worship You
From fear of Hell, burn me in Hell.

O Lord,
If I worship You
From hope of Paradise, bar me from its gates.

But if I worship You for Yourself alone
Then grace me forever the splendor of Your Face.
~ Rabi’a al-adawiyya

my soul connects to the moment.

the level of love that fills me.

the air that drifts through me and soothes me.

and the sounds of the enlightened
guide me.
surround me.

in the circular pillars that ground me.

The light from their glow blinds me.
and astounds me.
shows me the truth of what is
and can be.

the plan at hand,
the thoughts that combine
that heal
and in lines.

the inner with the world around me.

the souls that caress the spirit in me.

it is like the sea that carries me to love,
and the fire that burns me to feel,
the air that sways through my being,
and the earth that grounds me to the knowledge of this land.

at hand.
it surrounds my thoughts
to combine
and uplift
our spirits.

the guides that give strength
and wisdom to the child with in me
and i see
our hearts unite with in me.

there is no me
only truth that
embraces
and places
deep within
the knowledge
that we are none.

only one.

© 2008 Taubah Blackman