cracks in the sidewalk
TRANSCRIPT
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for my grandmother . . .
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Cracks in the Sidewalk
by Emily Malig
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Mistakes
if shed gotten asecond opinion on the situation, another
doctors advice, maybe
shed still be alive
Hushed voices murmured on
the other side of
the wall
Nonsense!If it was her time, then
it was her time.
God doesnt make mistakes, you
know.
My parents continue
discussing as I
wonderwas it really her
time to go?
or did God
make a
mistake?
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Pretending
Everyone pretends thateverythings okay
Everyone acts
normal
Parents go to
work
Children go to
schoolIts like nothing ever
happened
or if something did
happen
its like everyones moved
on
Everyone is pretending
to beokay
So I pretend too
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Fine. Just fine.
When people ask,Are you okay?
Do you want to talk about it?
I say,
Im fine. Just fine.
Because what the hell am
I supposed to say?
No. Im not okay.But theres not
one
damn
thing
you can do about it?
They want to help.
They want me to feel better.
They want me to be happy.But I cant.
I cant be happy.
I cant feel better.
So I put on
my sunniest smile
and I tell them,
Im fine.Just fine.
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Forever
Dim memories ofmusic
dancing
laughter
Faded photographs of
her
of us
togetherWe are forever
smiling in
those frozen snapshots
Forever
laughing, forever
dancing
But forever only
exists in
photographs
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Broken Seams
Ive never beena good actress
Cannot pretend to
be something Im
not
Cannot pretend to
feel something Im
notIm falling
apart
Trying to hide the
rips
Trying to sew them
together
Before
Ibr
eak
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Sound of Joy
Laughter is the sound of joybubbling up through the
stomach, through the
chest, through the
throat, and out of the
mouth.
Then the sound pierces the
air, like musicringing,
dancing,
flooding
the atmosphere, emanating through the
air, reaching the ears of all who
listen
for the joyful noise.
I havent heard the sound inso long.
Not since before the
funeral. So I guess itisnt
surprising that I jump out
of my skin a little, when
the noise reaches my ears
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Running
HeartbeatsFootsteps
Inhale
Exhale
AwayAwayAwayAway
AwayAwayAwayAway . . .
Gone.
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Homeless
Looking at peoplewho dont have a
house,
who live on the
streets,
who beg for
money,
I think,
Why dont they have a
home?
a place to
live?
I wonder,
are they
dangerous?
are they irrevocably addicted to
intoxicating substances?
How did they screw
up their lives?
How did they endup like this?
Now I wonder,
How didIend
up like this?
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HIM
Ive only heard things aboutthe homeless man
He smokes
He drinks
Hes into drugs
He hangs with the wrong crowd
He had problems growing up
Hes been in jail beforeHes dangerous
I know his reputation
I know what
other people think about him
But what
do I think about him?I dont know what
I think about him
I
dont
even
know
him.
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Their Eyes
What do people see whenthey look at me?
round eyes?
straight hair?
nice clothes?
good grades?
And what do people think when
they look at me?
shes nice?
shes shy?
shes boring?
shes smart?
I wish I
knew
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HIS Eyes
Hes coming nowwalking right towards me.
I stare at him
out of the corner of my eye.
holey converse
baggy jeans
ratty t-shirt
shaggy hairhazel eyes
that look at the ground.
Then they flash up into my own.
Watching
Studying
Observing
I wonder
what they see.
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A Silent Message
HeyHello
Arent you the girl
who walks past
each morning
on her way to school?
Yeah. I am.
Its niceto finally meet you.
Im Joe, he says
as he extends his hand.
Im Ingrid, I say
as I tentatively
extend mine.
Then his big
warm handenvelopes mine.
And his eyes seem
to seep into mine,
sending me a silent message
that says:
You are not alone.
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Little Talks
I never thoughtId be face to face
having a conversation
with the homeless man.
He tells me that
hes lived here,
on this corner
for yearsand that Im welcome
to stay there with him
if I want.
I wonder,
Why doesnt he have a home?
A place to live?
Is he dangerous?
How did he end up like this?then I remember,
that hes probably
wondering
the same exact things
about me
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The Pretenders
Joe is kind.He tries
to talk to me.
He asks me
normal questions.
How are you?
Hows school?
Whats your favorite subject?
He doesnt talk
about being homeless,
or not having a job,
or all of the people
pretending
not to stare at us
as they walk past.He doesnt talk
about how they
pretend
not to hear us,
not to see us,
even as theyre sneaking
peeks
over their shoulders.
Those people
dont bother Joe.
Hes used to it.
But Im not.
Im used to being
one of the peoplewho pretend.
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Expectations
Living onthe streets with Joe is
like living with a stranger.
He doesnt expect me to
mope or
cry or
laugh or
smile ortell him that Im
Fine. Just fine.
He doesnt give me looks of
sympathy
He doesnt force
therapy sessions
He doesnt treat me like Im
broken.
doesntexpect me to be ____________.
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Realization
It takes a couple minutesfor me to realize Im
smiling
laughing.
Takes a half-second longer
for me to realize shes
gone. Shes
Gone.
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Overflowing
Memoriesare
everywhere
Hidden
under
nooks under
crannies behinddoors behind
walls between
inhales and
exhales between
apologies and
forgiveness between
questions and
answers andmore questions
more questions
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Empty
Mypockets seem to
be filled with
heavy
grey
matter that
weighs me
downBut,
when I check to
see whats
inside,
there is
only
air
that slipsthrough
my
fingers
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Dream Daze
The grief has becomefamiliar
like swimming through
grey
fog
like seeing with
fuzzy
eyesightlike waking up from a
strange
dream
like walking backwards with
closed
eyes
I dont rightly know where Im going
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Q&A
It takes awhile for me togather the courage to
ask,
Why are you here?
Silence. . .
Because there is nothing
else for
me.Because there is no other place
for me to
be.
Because there is no one
for me to be
with.
Because
Imlost.
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On the Brink of Insanity
Then I seethe sagging of his
shoulders
the drooping of his
eyes
the sorrow in his
face
the way he breathes
Slowly
Carefully
As if breathing is the
only thing keeping
him from
losinghis
mind
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Used to it
I wake updazed.
But Im used
to the daze
now.
Im used to the
ache the
grey thefog the
haze the
pounding quiet the
faded memories the
heavy pockets full of nothing the
eyes that pretend not to stare at us the
eyes that pretend not to stare at me the
drooping eyelids thesagging shoulders the
faces full of sorrow the
not knowing
where
the
hell
Im
going
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Hes Stuck.
Im beginning tounderstand Joe.
Hes stuck.
Not moving forward or
backward or
right or
left.
Hes stuck.Swimming through the
fog of his own
sorrow.
Hes stuck.
Lost in the
infinity of his own
mind.
Hes stuck.As every bone in his
body starts to
dissolve.
Hes stuck. Hes
Stuck.
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Not Stuck Yet
Im beginning tobecome stuck.
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The Wave
I cant stay here I cant daydream through the rest of mylife because that would mean I would become a female
version of Joe And I do not want that to happen I do not
want to become a living dead person because thats
what Joe is He stopped living a long time ago and now
he can barely manage existing at all I cant live in the
waking memory of her but I cant run away from her
either because I already tried that; it did not work Iwish I could go back to when everything was okay but I
cant because the knowledge that shes gone is going to
stay with me for the rest of my life until I die I know that
shes gone but I cant seem to accept it nor can I begin to
imagine the possibility of moving on I dont know
where to go because I keep finding memories of her
everywhere so I cant run away from them but I dont
know how to face them either If this were a perfectworld, maybe I would go off and do something amazing
and wonderful and fantastic as a result of whats going
on in my life right now but I dont even know whats
going on and its not a perfect world Im supposed to
overcome this Im supposed to talk to a shrink so that I
can let go of my feelings so that I can feel better and be
happy and live life so that I can love life and then Im
supposed to take what I learned from this experienceand turn it into something great Im supposed to turn
my life around but its turning out to be pretty damn
hard Everyone whos lost someone has turned into
some inspirational icon for the world or at least thats
what itseemed like before I met Joe He doesnt even
know how to live anymore its hard enough for him to
keep breathing Not everyone can become so great Noteveryone can overcome this and maybe just maybe . . .
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maybe just maybe . . .
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AcknowledgementsA gigantic thanks to Gaby DiMuro for being an
excellent mentor, navigator, editor, smiling face, and
much more! This project could not have been what it is
without you.
Thanks to my family for supporting me
throughout this process, and for always being there for
me to talk to.
Lastly, thanks to you for reading!
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