I Will Not Bend

Drained of life, stuffed with frass
All my dreams are broken glass
Bleeding hands grasp what remains
Dripping down, my clothing stains

You will not control my soul
I will move on and be made whole
Never again will I rest
Always pushing another test

Bitterness and pain I will savor
Ashes and gall are now my flavor
The branding iron I stare down
I bend it now to make my crown

I pound my flesh to make it tough
Push my limits beyond enough
There’ll be no fat upon this frame
Power and force only remain

May my bath be ice
My drink bitter
May my groans echo
My breath labor

Let the pain seared into my mind
Force me, new heights to find
Forward it moves me to the end
I grit my teeth, I will not bend

Copyright June 2017
Duane Windell Phillips

June 15, 1993

Twenty four years ago today my mom died.  In many ways there is nothing else to say.  Much of that day has faded.  I don’t think of mom every day.  I haven’t for a long time.  For some reason, this year it carries more weight. 

Mom had a mastectomy when I was in tenth grade.  At some point after recovery she was declared cancer free.  It was only a few years later a lump appeared on her neck close to her collarbone.  Shortly thereafter, dad’s job required him to move.  My parents didn’t want to do this but with a preexisting medical condition, there was no choice.     

Mom’s last days came quickly.  We visited on Valentine’s Day and mom enjoyed time with her two month old granddaughter.  Mom loved her grandchildren.  She was normal during that visit.  She fussed over meals she prepared, keeping the house clean how and she herself looked.  She wore a wig that was close to her hair color.  I know she felt self-conscious about wearing it. 

About a month before her death, one of the vertebra in mom’s neck collapsed. Not too long after this, mom woke one night to use the bathroom.  After washing her hands she pivoted on her left leg and her femur snapped.  At this point I was sure the end was near but dad continued in thinking they just needed to build her back up and she’d be ok. 

I took many days off to visit her.  The last time I saw her I made it a point to discuss her mortality.  Neither of us was very comfortable with the discussion but I knew in my heart I had to say things or I would forever regret not saying them.  When I said goodbye that day I knew I had to be by her bedside when died. 

A week or so later mom left the hospital to go home.  Hospice would begin visiting her.  On the way home, a bird flew in front of the car and dad hit it with the car.  He was certain he killed it.  It was an omen.  My oldest sibling died when he was three months old.  The day he died, a bird flew into the window above his crib and died.  There have been other similar omens in my family since.

I received the call from dad that mom wasn’t doing well.  I pondered traveling again to be with her but I realized it was still early June and I had nearly used up all of vacation, holidays and sick time.  I made the decision to not travel this time.  At the last minute, my brother and sister-in-law drove up to be with mom and dad. 

My brother called early to next morning to give me the news.  He said mom fought for each breath.  She had much to live for.  My daughter turned seven months old that day and my sister was due to deliver in a few weeks.  Mom loved her grandbabies and wanted to be with them.  I advised I would get on the earliest flight I could and advise when I would arrive.  Then I called my wife, who was in Florida visiting her parents.  Finally, I called work to advise of mom’s death.  Once all that was done, I felt very alone in the empty apartment.  My soul wanted someone with which to share this burden but there was no one. 

During the flight I wondered how dad was.  How would he act when I arrived?  To my relief, he acted as I expected.  In my family, we tell stories.  As early as I can remember, we would visit family and the adults sat at the table sipping coffee, smoking cigarettes, telling stories and laughing.  Typically, I sat with them and listened.  While everyone had quit smoking by this time, everything else about my family was normal.  Perhaps it is a defense mechanism but we laugh in the face of death.  Five years ago during a late night vigil around my grandma’s bed, my sister, a cousin and I had stomach pains from laughter.  Don’t get me wrong, we all freely cry if it is needed but humor is heightened.  My grandma loved to laugh and her laughter was so infectious.  We often said she stuck around a little longer to enjoy our laughter. 

I have never seen my dad cry but my brother told me after they took mom’s body, which was before I arrived, he sat on the couch with arms at his side and sobbed.  He didn’t care and made no effort to hide his tears. 

The night my mom died, I was the last in bed.  Everyone else had been up more than twenty four hours and retired early.  I began shutting off lights before going to bed and I wondered what could be going through dad’s mind while in the bed his wife died in mere hours before.  I switched off the light in the kitchen which darkened the whole house.  I knew how to navigate the house in the dark and wasn’t concerned by this.  However, while retrieving my hand from the switch, I knocked a glass to the floor and it shattered.  Instantly, my dad called out, “Nancy!”

I felt horrible.  In the darkness, I said, “It’s just me dad.  I knocked over a glass.  I’ll clean it up.”  He never replied.  None was needed. 

Five years later I was visiting my dad and we discussed that fateful day.  He asked me how he acted.  I said just the way I expected him to act.  Then he told me he remembers nothing after mom died until the funeral other than I drove him to the town where mom is buried.  He didn’t remember how I got to the house.  I just suddenly was there.  I advised him on the basic details. 

Then he told me the night after mom died, she was standing next to the bed.  He saw her but then she was gone and he remembered calling her name.  Again, I felt terrible as I told him what happened to cause mom to leave his side.  I realize I may not have caused mom to leave.  Maybe she wasn’t really there.  We will never know this side of heaven. 

Where is My Heart?

Before time and space
We shared the womb
You were my heart
I was your soul
We were one mind

Separated and lost

I appeared in another time
You, another place
Stumbling through this barren cinder
Groping for you
Crying out
Where is my heart?

Haunted by whispers of a long forgotten language

Praying without knowing why
Visions of you spirited my existence
I saw but you were too fantastic to comprehend
Fumbling for one another
Craving the warmth of our embrace
Like a miracle
You appeared

Joy, rapturous bliss

I have my heart
I am your soul
Though separate from the womb
We are complete

A New Story: Must Be Newlyweds

Julie planned the weekend trip before meeting Marcus.  She wished she could cancel it but the air fare and hotel were booked and prepaid.  With such a fantastic price, she jumped at the chance to meet college friends for a weekend trip.  Now, things were different.  Though she wanted to see her friends she preferred to be with Marcus.  Julie was dejected to learn no refunds or changes were possible. 

The night before Julie’s flight, the couple went out to dinner and to the park.  The whole night Julie brooded about being away.  Marcus repeatedly assured her they would both be fine.  It was merely two days.  They could still text or call one another if there was an emergency but Marcus stated he wouldn’t interrupt Julie’s time with her friends.  It was their time.  “Besides,” Marcus added, “I don’t want to be one of them controlling boyfriends.  All your friends would hate me.  You’d be ready to give me to boot if I was.”

“I know, it’s just….”

“What?”

Julie hesitated.  “I love spending time with you.  My heart smiles every morning when you send me “Good morning” texts.  Sometimes, they are silly or sappy but they are from you.  I feel them coming out of your heart.”

“I can still send you those if you want.”

“I know.”  Julie still was dejected.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

Laughing, Marcus replied, “I love you, Julie.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to.  We will be ok.  Trust me.  I’m not going anywhere.  You better not either.”

Julie hugged him and they briefly kissed.  How could she describe all that filled her heart?  Her soul never felt empty before but now that Marcus occupied a space there, it had to expand to accommodate him.  He wasn’t simply a part of her life.  In many ways, he was her life.  Such thoughts were fantastical in her mind but Julie knew no other way to describe it. 

While Julie was away, Marcus had no plans other than doing laundry and calling his parents.  As Saturday progress, he felt as if the sun would never rise again.  As nightfall neared, Marcus began to realize how much he hurt when he couldn’t spend time with Julie.  He sulked the whole day. 

Sleep dodged him the whole night.  He mind was filled with visions of Julie being with other people, having fun and ignoring him.  He was crushed.  As the hours counted down until her flight arrived, Marcus was filled with dread.  What if, when he met her at the airport, she said their relationship was over?  He couldn’t bear the thought. 

Standing at the bottom of the escalator in baggage claim, Marcus felt his heart in turmoil.  All he could think was, “The look on her face when we see each other will tell me everything.”  Time slowed to a stop as he watched various reunions around him.  How would his be?

He saw Julie’s hair first.  She wore a ball cap on her head and her face was obscured by looking down while stepping on the escalator but Marcus knew it was Julie.  He glued a smile to his face.  Julie’s head lifted as she began scanning the crowd of faces.  Just as Marcus started to raise his hand, their eyes locked in recognition.  Instantly, she beamed.  Suddenly, all the darkness left Marcus’s soul.  His love returned. 

Marcus stepped closer to the escalator exit with a full heart as Julie neared.  As soon as she was clear she jumped to him.  The two hugged and held one another like long lost couples separated by oceans and decades.  Tears began to well up in Marcus’s eyes.  He held Julie tightly, pouring all of his emotion into their embrace.  While they squeezed each other, Julie whispered, “I love you.” 

“I love you so.”

A middle aged man stepped from the escalator and met his wife.  The two gave one another a mindless peck and began walking toward the car.  As they passed Marcus and Julie, they both looked and one another.  Then the husband leaned down to his wife and whispered, “Must be newlyweds.” 

A New Story: Floor

Bob remembered the moment he began to feel it all slipping away.  Like the straw that broke the camel’s back, it had been a long process.  It was the New Year’s Eve party before their youngest graduated from college.  There was no certain thing from that evening that that stood out.  What he did remember was a sense of overwhelming dread that smothered him as he and Marsha left the party. 

 

It was at that moment Bob realized he didn’t know how he could survive another year.  Somehow, he did survive over two years until this moment.  The morning after the party his mind immediately filled with thoughts of work and how he repeatedly was overlooked for promotions.  He recounted each slight like he was living them again.  Bob worked hard and took pride in his work.  Like most men, work was his identity.  His father drilled into him the belief men must work and work hard.  They had to give their all when they work.  There was pride in doing your utmost.

 

For many years, he trusted hard work would give him recognition and advancement.  Reality was different.  No one expressed appreciation for a job well done.  Regardless of the complexity of the project or extra hours worked to bring it to an on time completion, no one cared.  However, the slightest error was highlighted and scrutinized. 

 

Perhaps the final straw happened a few days before New Year’s .  Bob submitted a bid on a new position that would be a similar to his but had a modest pay increase.  He knew he was qualified even though he would need to learn procedures.  When the company introduced a recent college graduate as the person for the job, Bob’s heart sunk.  The company lacked the decency to privately advise him they would hire someone from the outside.  He learned when the office received the announcement. 

 

It was a terrible slap in the face.  He bore no grudge against the young man.  He was the same age as his daughter.  It was hard for kids to find work after college.  Still, he hated the thought of having a child dictate his work life.  This was just another of a long line of kids who only cared about getting the next promotion.  They always used subordinates to look good.  Then, because they looked good and did and said the right things, they moved on.

 

Bob was particularly morose during the drive home that day.  He felt Marsha must have noticed but instead of being a caring wife, she continued her routine of nitpicking every real or perceived shortcoming she saw in her husband.  That was the day he stopped believing things would ever get better. 

 

Driving to the hotel where he had been staying, Bob’s stomach churned.  Part of him wanted to continue with the divorce.  He didn’t believe Marsha would ever change no matter how much she might want to so.  Not having to deal with her would be a big relief in his life.  In that moment of his life, he didn’t want to consider ever being with another woman.  They were all the same.  Bob simply couldn’t bear the thought of putting himself through the same shit again. 

 

Then another thought crept into his mind.  If he did continue pursuing the divorce and Marsha did take everything, he probably deserved it.  After pouring himself into work for the whole of his life, he still was nothing.  Perhaps this is what the universe was telling him.  Bob, you are a fool for believing you could ever be someone.  You are no one. 

 

His emotions were numb.  In desperation, Bob screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping for a bit of relief.  Once finished, nothing had changed.  He drove to a liquor store and purchased a bottle of tequila.  Later, as he walked to his hotel room, he chuckled to himself while repeating a phrase in his mind, “One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor."