Nag champa burning amber and blue in the pre-summer air, a long lost sadness sifts upwards through the sands of memory.
Maybe 7 years or so ago, a friend of a friend lost enough hope to hang herself in a cramped closet.
She left behind a teenage daughter.
I remember walking through her apartment in the days following. The air lay upon our bodies like a water logged blanket. It was hard not to choke, even with all doors and windows open. The sounds from outside seemed muted even in the city.
We sat on the floor, lit a candle, and talked to her. I don't know if it was more for her or for my friend. But I do remember putting my heart into it. And comforting. In the loss of hope so painful, she felt in one, small but all encompassing moment, without another choice.
Hope is a powerful thing. When you have it, it can sustain you. When you lose it, it can defeat your very existence.
There are varying factors and a vast spectrum behind have and have none for hope.
I'm not sure why she enters my thoughts now. Or why she seems important to my "right brain". I never knew her, only of her. I knew her good friends whose spines sagged c-shaped after her death.
Maybe 7 years or so ago, a friend of a friend lost enough hope to hang herself in a cramped closet.
She left behind a teenage daughter.
I remember walking through her apartment in the days following. The air lay upon our bodies like a water logged blanket. It was hard not to choke, even with all doors and windows open. The sounds from outside seemed muted even in the city.
We sat on the floor, lit a candle, and talked to her. I don't know if it was more for her or for my friend. But I do remember putting my heart into it. And comforting. In the loss of hope so painful, she felt in one, small but all encompassing moment, without another choice.
Hope is a powerful thing. When you have it, it can sustain you. When you lose it, it can defeat your very existence.
There are varying factors and a vast spectrum behind have and have none for hope.
I'm not sure why she enters my thoughts now. Or why she seems important to my "right brain". I never knew her, only of her. I knew her good friends whose spines sagged c-shaped after her death.
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