A Public Apology
When they told me you were sick
I asked,
"Oh, so does that mean no more playtime?"
I stared your illness in the face,
and smiled with childish innocence
I wondered how many shiny, pink bandaids
it would take to heal your invisible wounds
I wondered how many bowls of her famous soup
mom would have to cook
I wondered when you would be better so we
could go back to playing school
I would teach,
my six year old mouth rattling off facts
about butterflies and the sky and
everything else that crossed my mind,
and you would listen
hang on every word I said
as though they meant something marvelous
just like old times
I wanted you to get better.
When we walked through grocery stores
I noticed people staring
but I was taught that staring was rude
and maybe if people stopped staring
God would too
but they didn’t and neither did He,
stared right into my six year old eyes
still hazed with the newness of life
and snatched you from me.
When they pulled me out of school
I was in the middle of first grade nap time
pallets of blankets and pillows
warm and snuggly just like your house
warm August air blowing
the green leaves of the magnolia trees
their white flowers just beginning to bud
I wanted to stop and play outside
I wanted you to get better.
When they pulled me from your hospital suite
I was too confused to know
what was going on, I knew that
I wanted you to come with me but
you were under mountains of blankets and sheets
mummified forever inside my heart,
I wanted to tell you that I loved you
but you couldn't hear me,
I wanted to stop the pounding behind my ears,
the tears flowing freely from my eyes,
I wanted you to get better.
When they told me I was sick
I did not want to get better
I wanted to take my illness like a big pill
swallow it down
never to be seen again.
I wanted to end it on my own terms
I ran four traffic lights daily
with the hope that a red semi-truck would
run that light, smash into the driver's side,
twisted metal engulfed in burning embers,
end it all right then and there,
DOA.
I wanted my illness years before,
when you had yours
so I could fight for you
so I could fight for us
I wasn't there and
now you aren’t.
I really am sorry that
you couldn't stay longer
but you taught me
life is a like a sleepover
we all have to go home at some point,
whether it be eight in the morning
or two in the afternoon.
When they released me from the hospital,
I felt undeserving, I needed ‘DO NOT RESUSCITATE’
engraved into my flesh
just in case
I cheated death once again,
but you were still an omnipresent ghost
creeping through the channels of my mind
When they ask me why,
I think that it’s
not for my sake, but
for yours
you are in me
I feel you when I haphazardly
scribble down
words just like this
I feel your breath in my bones
I hear you speak in every crack
of my knuckles
your heartbeat is engraved
into my palms
When they ask me why
I say that
I’m not sure, that
I don’t know
I do know
that I am sorry
because I saved myself
instead of saving you.