Between My Finger and Thumb… (Harper Lee Emulation)

Stage 1: Between my finger and my thumb lie the fingers of my parents guiding me into this world.

 Stage 2: Between my finger and my thumb lies a pencil, learning how to get my thoughts into words.

 Stage 3: Between my finger and my thumb lies a hand, the same hand that had guided me into this world and given me a chance to live.

The same hand but,

this time cold.

 Stage 4: Between my finger and my thumb lie the hands of my mother as a gesture of support.

The same hands that carried me through this world and taught me how to survive in such a society.

The same hands that are now wrinkled in complexion and weak in strength as not much flows through the antique veins any longer.

 Stage 5: Between my finger and my thumb lies the pencil, but this time nervously.

Nervously because this time I authorize the statement of assisted suicide for my mother who has lost all sense of memory and doesn’t deserve to deal with such pain.

The same mother who repeatedly called my name without hesitation to call me to the dinner table.

But this time hesitates in even remembering me.

 Stage 6: Between my finger and my thumb lies a hand as a gesture of hope.

But this time, it is the hand of my soul mate, comforting me as I explain my life story.

 Stage 7: Between my finger and my thumb lies the hand of my soul mate.

This time walking me to the stage of a new beginning.

Walking me to our wedding stage.

Stage 8: Between my finger and my thumb lies the hand of our creation as I guide her into this world.

Stage 9: Between my finger and my thumb lies the hand of my daughter as I teach her how to get her thoughts into words.

Stage 10: Between my finger and my thumb lie the hands of my soul mate and daughter as I lay there in the hospital bed.

Stage 11: Between my finger and my thumb lie the many cords and pipes trying to pump life into me once again.

Stage 12: Between my finger and my thumb lie the hands of my family as I slowly decide to fade away.

Stage 13: Between my finger and thumb lie the hands of my very own parents as I have now… joined them.

—–     This poetical piece was inspired by a writing seminar exploring the works of Seamus Heaney. Specifically by the piece called ”Digging.” In all my intention for this poem was to represent the cycle of life in my eyes. The first time reading this is simply for pleasure in getting to the end, however when reading twice you begin to see the connections I have made between the different things that happen in life and how it all composes into one cycle. However despite all of that, life is a cycle that goes on forever and no matter what we encounter we simply have to move on and remember that we will leave this world at one point to, so why not look at the bright side of going to the same place as your loved ones. Just as in this piece I end with:

“Between my finger and my thumb lie the hands of my very own parents as I have now joined them.”

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/124341639684077966/
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/124341639684077966/

Just a Little Longer… (Short Story)

Day 1:

“Where am I?” I scream, realizing that no one would provide me an answer because I am alone.

The room was blinding white, newly painted and appeared newly furnished. The room was simple in complexion yet I had this odd feeling that it would become something complex and intricate just as the thoughts in my mind currently are. In a swift motion my hand touches the walls to feel for hollowness, but instead I am exposed to the engravings of heart scannings. From the top its states birth, then followed by endless lines I get to the end where all the curved lines become one. They form a straight line with “Death 2015” stated at the end.

I think to myself, “What year am I in,” and my mind aches as I begin to think.

I start to question myself:

“What is my name?”

“Who am I?”

“How old am I?”

“And why am I wearing a sky blue dress with red stains?”

“Why?”

I Stop. I stop because none of these questions have answers at the moment. Even my very own name, it seems nonexistent. I stand there in pain, in agony of not knowing what has happened to me. I look to the wall behind me and see words; I blink to check if I am hallucinating. I blink many times and realize that it is real. I see words. I run. I run as if I am an angel in heaven, swift as a feather. I am overwhelmed with the amount of words but find a connection with all of them. I recognize these people, the people I know, or at least the people I once knew. I continue reading and try to forget about the pain constantly knocking in my head.
“Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth.”

I am repeatedly hit by this name, it appears in every sentence and these words I am reading seem so sad, they speak as if they are being said to a corpse. They speak as if they are towards me. I think harder, realizing that my head is pounding more than ever. My head aches as I try to comprehend a basic understanding of this. With a surge of a sharp pain I think one last time before I let out a scream and realize that Elizabeth is me.
“ I am Elizabeth Kerrey Maree!”

 

Day 2:

I wake up from what seemed like an eternity but was just a day. I look around not knowing where I am. I look around me and observe this blinding white room, which seems newly furnished. I get myself up in pain as my head throbs with the immense sensation of an infuriating ringing tone that hits directly upon my eardrums.

“Make it stop!” I scream holding my wrinkled hands over my screaming ears.

I push back the pain and look around to see if I can figure out this mess I have put myself in, just as I do any other day. You see my life is a mess. I am constantly losing my memory and somehow still expected to live a normal life.

Besides that, I observe the room around me and notice a table. This table does not seem like any other table, in fact it seems like it has been formulated from fractured metal of a car that had just been in a car accident. The metal so deformed, must have been a strong one. I begin to walk closer, and as I come to see that there are objects on the table I speed up in hopes of getting closer faster, but that is only a thought. Finally after reaching my destination after what seems like a few hours I stare at the objects. I wonder if I am allowed to touch them but that thought has been broken, as I have grasped this object in to my hand. It is a globe, not of the world but just of color and words. It is divided in half by the distinct differences in color, as one side is colorful and so uplifting it feels so smooth and compelling, and is wanted my many. Then I come around to feeling the other side with the palm of my hand and notice the change in color, as it is now black. It seems as if life has given up on beauty, it comes to all but is not wanted by all. My hands feel the rough texture and soon enough my hand comes into contact with a sharp object which causes a rush of bright red blood to come rushing out of my wrinkled finger. My brain aches as I grab a hold of it just in time. I close my eyes and dream. I dream of wanting to spend all the time I ever could with this someone, who I can’t seem to get a clear image of just yet. I remember turning into memory lane as this red, bold vehicle comes rushing in-between us, separating us. I am long lost in my thoughts trying to formulate this occurrence.

Day 3:
I rise and shine to the warmth of the sun peering through the white window that seems blinding white and newly furnished. I peek my eyes open as the sun stains my eyes in pain. I turn over in hopes of eliminating the bright light but it does not go away. In fact I notice this tunnel that seems to lure me in.

My head aches and just as I grab a hold of my head a series of events flash in my mind only allowing me to catch the slightest glimpse of what is happening. I close my eyes to make it all stop. It all stops, as all I can see now is blackness. All I can see is nothing but darkness.

To this day I still beat myself for closing my eyes and not being able to bear the pain because here I lay in my deathbed today.

http://www.livescience.com/16019-death-experiences-explained.html
http://www.livescience.com/16019-death-experiences-explained.html

 

Spoken Word — Endless Time… Countless Beats…

 Life, a forever cycle just like the endless ticking of a clock.

A race from birth to death.

Where birth is common and death is ongoing.

Birthed from our mothers womb curious to know where we have come as our innocent minds wander.

Until we grow up and form minds of our own.

Form thoughts of our own.

Form influences of our own.

Yet the clock continues to tick.

It continues to pass, just as my heart continues to waste away.

I question my existence.

I question my place in this world.

Because the clock continues moving, as the gears interlock perfectly within one another moving forever.

3429 ticks away

We go about life encountering new souls everywhere.

We go about sticking to those whom we find a connection with.

We go about living in or own worlds, working to reach new heights,

not realizing that time is passing .

2429 ticks away

I have become tired of still living.

I have become tired of losing loved souls.

I have drained myself out with tears, as all that surrounds me is a restless ocean of memories,

just memories.

1429 ticks away

I have become tired of filling the holes that have been engraved in my heart.

Because I have lost parts of me that will never return just as the gears of a clock will never rewind.

My ventricles becoming weaker by the second, left empty with nothing to grasp.

The clock has become dysfunctional, as the gears left with nothing to turn in a smooth motion.

429 ticks away

For my hands have become numb, as they have let go of far too many souls.

My heart continues to decay as my breaths begin to lose count.

29 ticks away

I lay here motionless.

I lay here in silence, as it has become my only companion.

My vision of this world blurs.

As…

                                           my existence fades…

                                                                                              Tick, tick, tick…

https://www.flickr.com/photos/davidmontse/3115817715
https://www.flickr.com/photos/davidmontse/3115817715

 

 

 

 

 

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=insDhT2CfJY

No Goodbye

We always knew he was going to leave someday, but much farther down the road of 2-3 years.

We never thought it would be the next day.

He was feeling quite ill on July 26, and was brought to the emergency in close to critical condition.

He could barely breathe, as most of his oxygen was being supplied to him by the tank attached to the bed side.

He barely spoke at the time.

To his son, who had brought him, he says, “I’m cold,” and that was it.

That was the last of his voice.

His wrinkled complexion lay on the wrinkled sheets as his soul wasted away.

We all have delightful souls we use to encompass our physical appearances, but what truly matters is the soul.

After all it was distinct that this body was no longer him.

“For death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”

Immediate family was called down the next day to visit him one last time, more so to see him lay there, speechless.

It was profound that his soul was no longer present; it was profound that his last breaths were taken with his family by his side.

It was all he ever wanted.

He was my grandpa.

This was the first funeral I had ever attended.

This was a life lesson put into perspective.

This exemplifies the act of sharing your thoughts with others as it is often unknown to when they will leave.

Whether they have made their final goodbye or not.

As many words may be left unsaid.

Just as they were.

“A thousand times we die in one life. We crumble break and tear apart until the layers of illusion are burned away and all that is left, is the truth of who and what we really are.”

Everyone was draped by a layer of white in reverence to the lifeless soul.

As we enter the comfortless funeral home and crematorium, it became distinctly impossible to hold back the tears.

It was almost as if a storm had been birthed.

The sky enveloped with gloomy bunches of condensation.

The atmosphere, silent and disheartening as we all offer our final eulogies.

Of one remarkable soul.

D Quote

death

Credits:

  • “Quotes” 1 and 2  – http://www.quotesgram.tk/death-quotes-3/
  • Image 1 – http://www.quotesgram.tk/death-quotes-3/
  • Image 2 – http://personalexcellence.co/quotes/822