Friday, May 21, 2010

Small Signs

The spot
at the base of my thumbs
just above the wrists
the size of about a quarter
the spot
where the sharp edges
of the plastic
zip-tie handcuffs
cut into my skin
into my radial nerves

leaving welts for days
leaving numbness for months
leaving pain for going on now
over two and a half years
since the day

it
still
hurts.

I still hurt.

I carry that pain with me
every day
a basket of bread
a constant reminder
and I wonder if I will ever
be done with it.
The needles find relief
and also
seemingly endless depths
of soreness,
tenderness,
stuckness,
pain. The needles wonder
if I will ever
be done with them.

I don't know.
I wonder if being done
is the wrong question.

I know this, though.
I am mindful to anniversaries.
I know what happened
in the less than merry month of May
two years ago. It has been
in my consciousness.
I even thought about it
this morning, driving
to see the immigrant workers,
remembering my people
sitting with me on the bench,
how I wouldn't let them leave,
how they wouldn't leave,
how they cradled me,
how they blessed me
every time I sneezed.
(I was so so sick.)
A chorus of blessings
behind me around me.
It is May,
and I remember.

But not until this morning
sitting with BlueEyes
and sweet cups of Tension Tamer
having a conversation with her
about "one year ago today..."
what she was doing to get ready to graduate,
which prompted me to think
of two years ago,
what I was doing to get ready to graduate,
And only then did I realize, remember
that today is actually the day
today is the day I testified,
and the day I was found guilty
of stepping out of place.
Today is that day.

And I had forgotten.
Or,
not forgotten, exactly,
I didn't forget.
I just didn't think
to count the days.
Last year I did.
This year...something else.
And realizing this
made us smile.

That I didn't need to remember
didn't even realize to remember
down to the minute, the day
must mean
I hope it means
something is healing.

I am mindful,
but perhaps not as captive.
Even though my body still hurts,
my arms and shoulders and heart
still remember,
but not everything is the same.

Thanks be to God.

2 comments:

  1. Sitting here trying to think of something even remotely adequate to say and failing. These words are beautiful.

    ReplyDelete

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