Saturday, November 26, 2011


There was a time that I used to love to write. Whether it be poetry or prose, of import or of nonsense, writing was my way to express every emotion I experienced. In recent years, I find that I write for my own eyes -- afraid to share my thoughts for fear of hurting others or myself. I over-edit my writing, assuming that I can even bring the words through me onto paper or digital representation. 

Pain, anger, sadness... these are now the things that fuel a lot of what I write. But I don't want this to be how it always is. I would like to be able to harness the other emotions, as I once did before, to share with you who care to read my writing.

This morning, I had a long talk with my mother, through crappy "borrowed" Internet. The talk made me reflect on all the lives lost on March 11, here in Japan, when we were shaken to our very core by a huge earthquake unlike the modern world has ever seen. The earthquake heralded in a tsunami that stole the lives and livelihood from so many people -- and I, in Saitama, so far removed from the pain and fear and suffering of everyone there, could only watch on my 1-seg television on my cell phone, as everything up north was washed away.

I have thought about the lost lives off and on, of course, since March -- it has been 8, almost 9 months now, and today is the first time I felt like writing about the lost lives. I wrote a few months ago about my own experience of the earthquake, but that didn't at all address the true losses to this world.

I don't know what made me write what I did below, but this is for those who were directly affected by the tsunami on March 11. #PrayforJapan


I wake up this morning, and roll over, wanting to enjoy the warmth from my blankets and from the body of the man I love, lying beside me. I pull close to my beloved and see the stillness of his breath. He is resting so peacefully, it seems as if he will be asleep forever. And so, as not to disturb him, I sit up quietly and let my eyes adjust to the day's brilliance. I gaze up at the sky and wonder why I can see it so clearly. Surely, there has never been such a sky as this, like water color come to life --  delicate and bright and beautiful. I look around me, out at the watery silence, at the skeletons of buildings and the chaos the previous day had brought. 

I find myself thinking about my life before I woke up today and I realize that perhaps this is a very poignant thought. "Am I dead?", I wonder, as I turn again toward the body of my one and only and immediately, I know the answer to my question. This morning, I did not wake up from the comfort of my dreams. Instead, I was never asleep -- I had experienced the living nightmare of Mother Nature sweeping away everything I knew. This morning, wrapped in sheets of water and debris, only my mind is awake as not only my beloved's body, but also my own, continue to rest under the ceiling of water, sunlight deflecting and rippling and sending out rays to cut through the darkness. 

As much as I try to roll over and go back to sleep, hoping that this is naught but a nightmare from which I can awaken, I know that when I open my eyes again, nothing will have changed. I know the truth. I am dead. And I will continue to sleep here, next to my love, forever. 


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You always come off as so strong and confident. It's hard sometimes to realize that everyone goes through these self-doubts. I know I do so much. Please don't be too hard on yourself. You're beautiful and you give me hope. Thank you always for sharing.