Tag Archives: lost

Six Feet Under

Oh, dear Mother
Six feet under
And nobody cared
Yet now the ground shakes
And the old are reborn
White hats fill these streets
Marching from door to door
“Recite the truth!”
“All hail the blood of the pure!”
“The blond toupe is our messiah!”
Yet these shouts aren’t the only fear
Your mighty winds have turned loose
Your floodgates are now broken
Oh, dear Mother, save us
We cry not for our self
Not for our children
For the skeletons have escaped
Someone left the closet door open
And none can contain
The guards have been recruited
Only to cry among us
Oh, dear Mother
Six feet under they were
Now here we lay
In our self made grave

© 2017 Jessica Santos

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In My Arms

Late at night the phone rings
And you’re knocking down my door
Saying you just want to quit
So I hold you closely in my arms
Cause I know you’re stronger than this

Feeling the scars on your back
I’m reminded of the weight you carry
Always standing on two feet
With the world on your shoulders
So I hold you closely in my arms
Cause I know you’re stronger than this

Even when you’re shaking in pain and anger
We breathe in deep
And it all just falls away
So I hold you closely in my arms
Cause I know you’re stronger than this

Those striking brown eyes filled with trouble
Peer into mine late at night
We don’t move
I just hold you closely in my arms
Cause I know you’re stronger than this

Saying you just want to quit
Is just not our way
In my arms
We are stronger than this

© 2017 Jessica Santos

Hear Us, Love Us, Rescue Me

America’s greatest holiday and he’s away. Away on vacation with a family of his own? Some may consider it as such others call it his duty and right.

Meanwhile, I lie awake at night tossing and turning. I haven’t heard from him and I don’t expect to not for the next few days at least. You see, we’re on a schedule. Only once a week am I graced with his scruffy quiet voice as he whispers into my ear. But that’s only through an earpiece.

Seeing each other would be catastrophic and not for us but for the family who depends on him. The weight of the world is on his shoulders and I wouldn’t wish that feeling on my worst of enemies. It destroys a being, makes them lose their self. The small glimpses I see of him, I see the struggle.

Secretly, he wants to run away to the coast or to the tippy top of a mountain far from the demands of another. But, his knapsack holds him back. It’s filled with the memories and keepsakes of thousands depending on him.

So, he can’t come at my beck and call. He can’t lay by my side at peace. But, together, on opposite sides of the world, we can stare into the sky looking at the same sun, the same moon where I will pray for the slightest ease of pain that he may feel from a blast only feet away. And he will pray for the silence that the world must beg for.

Maybe together, he’ll come home someday.

Until then, I keep the porch light on and the bed warm so that when he does return, he’s more than welcomed to rest his weary spirit.

© 2017 Jessica Santos

2016: A Year for Health

This morning I awoke with the full intent to go to the mall and walk amongst the hundreds of people rushing around. They would think that I was like them doing some last minute christmas shopping but it’s not true. I actually would be there as a method of distraction from my own problems.

My day did not go as planned though. Instead, I went through fits of depression and anxiety. The only time I wasn’t crying was when I buried myself in funny little clips on YouTube. I could only be distracted for a few videos though before I began staring at the clock.

Watching the hands tick by, I was reminded of how slow and how fast time could be. It only seemed like yesterday was January but I blink and see that my phone flashes the code “DEC”. I look at the hour hand though and pray for it to spin around faster.

Meanwhile, there’s a stinging itch and temperature flux as my body reminds me of the ailments that afflict it. I call my doctor for some medication and as soon as we hang up, I burst in tears.

Then, before I know it, my fingers dial a number that is permanently seared into my brain, my mother. She answers and immediately asks, “What’s wrong?” But, all she hears are my quiet sobs as the realization slowly hits me.

At this point, I’m staring at the pill bottles lining my dresser drawer and the calendar on my laptops bright white screen.

Through the tears and desperation, I hear my mom’s clear voice ring out demanding an answer. She’s not the type who coddles or speaks all too kindly to one so damaged. So, I swallow the frog in my throat and as fresh air inflates my lungs, the truth spills out.

It’s a truth that I’ve been holding back afraid that the two closest people would walk away from me. As I pour those words out into the empty space before me, I realize how ridiculous my fear is.

For the entirety of this year, 2016, I have either been sick, in pain or tensed and ready for a new wave. I hardly received a break long enough to relax weary muscles or grow mentally. Even now, I’m fighting for my health.

No one should have to live like this where you can’t even remember the last time you were healthy and not in fear of some crippling recurring pain.

But, I’m not sharing this to gain any wishes or long overdue phone calls. I’m okay. I promise I’m taking my medication and actively seeking a solution. I no longer stare at sharp objects begging for it all to end.

I stare at the mirror now. I hardly recognize myself and I haven’t even started taking the one medication that is life altering. But, I know that I’ll be okay. After all, I have a mother who can be so distant  but when I need her she knows exactly what to do and instantly awakens from her slumber charging at any threat. And, I have my best friend, my partner who is busy working hard but never forgets to give me the constant patience and understanding that I need even in the darkest of storms.

My whole world is far from what I imagined and hoped it would be but nothing always goes as planned. You can fall and cry. You can even get lost and muddy along the way. No matter what though, you can’t stop. You’ve come this far and there’s still a whole lot more that is left unknown. So you’ll be okay and don’t forget those fighting alongside you. They’ve come this far with you too and that must mean something so focus on the road of recovery because they’re not going anywhere and neither should you.

© 2016 Jessica Santos

The Silent Killer is NOT (Just) Cancer

Lurking within me is a beast waiting for the right time. And like its prey, I have little to no warning of when it will emerge. But best be reassured that there is no way of escape. Like Cancer, there is no cure or way for peace; but, few seek a resolution and instead many must suffer.

Little know or have even heard of this thing that will forever control my life. To some, it is considered “the Silent Killer” and to others it is much worse as some, like myself, considered death to be a relief. The pain alone becomes so strong so as to cause one to stare lovingly, longingly at any breakable or sharp object.

Then there is one’s diet. Remember all the foods traditionally savored and enjoyed, like ice cream, cake, cookies, candy, there are even more that one must deny the pleasure of consuming. All are a special case but all crave for a whispering taste of any deliscious morsel.

And I can’t forget one of the most fought for natural right of one’s womenhood. Because if we dare to consider the thought of children, then we must prepare for a long hard battle that many fail to ever win though some do. Yet, it is through many attempts, calculations, drugs and tears that such a feat is obtained.

Do not forget though that often those who are deadly end up become secretly passed along so as many after may suffer through similar difficulties.

A sure sign of such is the taunt and glances of many upon another whose looks are not entirely of the norm. Those, like myself, are all too familiar with the daily battles against one’s own hair as this beast enjoys to lay its tail like a mustache upon our upper lip. Its hair could also be shed upon other parts of our body so as to create an art peice of its own.

But who is this artist? this mastermind? this beast? It is none other than Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.

If any knows of its slow death then it is well known that it not only gives physical torment but mental too. For how can one continue with life, when many only offer temporary aid. Is it not better to succomb to the beast’s ultimate wish? Is that the only way for relief?

© 2016 Jessica Santos