When it was finally time to board, we found ourselves on a small plane, much like the one we’d taken from Springfield to Chicago—only this one was emblazoned with a shamrock and the airline name Aer Lingus. Upon boarding the captain announced his name as Seamus O’Connor.
Well. That turned very Irish very quickly.
Another takeoff, more flying. By now I was in some kind of trance or limbo. This was my lot now, to be forever stuck in transit, always hopping from one airport to another amid days and nights that didn’t match my body’s internal clock. I was so tired…so tired.

Crying in the shower at the end
Of the day
Over old heartbreak
Or perhaps
Current pain
But when the water calms
And my tears are washed away
I slip into my bed
Like my fears slipped down the drain
But not every fear or burden
Feels like it’s gone away
For I am only human
And I’ve had the longest day
So I beg for mercy
And pray for thankfulness
Hoping that each part of me
Will be fully cleansed
So bless the Lord, oh
My soul
And forget not His
What?
His benefits

The tears kept falling
I dashed them away
Angry at how fragile I’d become
But the anger only made the
Tears fall
Thicker
Adding to the overwhelming sense of
Feeling every emotion
So strongly
It started with sympathy for
A Hollywood actor
Making pain feel tangible for a moment
While creasing over on-screen
His face a tangle of fear and
Heartbreak
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
But the truth is that I’m not
Okay
I’m broken because
A song about seeing the stars
Over Amsterdam

Sometimes I ponder and I wonder why
A woman who's blessed tears up to cry
And then I remember her eyes so gentle
Feeling so deeply she loves not a little

Her life is a beautiful poem
Her heart is intricately woven
Her God-given life a sacrifice of love;
Her soul made of beauty given from above

Remember her tear; needed; 'tis true
It's a privilege if shared with you
Her sorrows are all yours now, as are her joys
Her heart is in your hands, your love it employs

Ashes of what once was
The memory faded
The scars healed
The tears now gone
The lesson never forgotten

They compare eyes to windows,
a way of looking in;
or glassy, like a mirror--
are you but a reflection?

Eyes like water, too, they say:
deep pools, deep seas.
But pools may freeze
and seas may swell with storm.

Glass and water, they trade
similes as one and same.
A pool of tears, a looking glass--
I'm always slipping through.

But I can't reach through this mirror.
Ice has covered
the pool of your reflection;
there is frost on the window to your soul.

Sitting there, a flashback comes. He's laughing at something a friend says, looking so young, strong, so vibrant. Another, he's starting to break a horse and I know that he's indestructible, because, what could ever hurt him? His muscles ripple as he pounds a nail into the wall, he's building a shop with his two hands. I know he's a real man. I see him cry, as he speaks with his heavenly Father. As he worships his Maker.

 But I can't see into him and he turns away to face the open road.

            “Never ye mind. Ye'll tell in yer own time I'm sure. Why do ye think there ain't been a soul here to snatch us all to the queen's delightful company?” It is clear that this conversation is closed for now.

            “Probably because every time any soldiers get near us, they are sent running in terror from Annie and Danielle.” I and Isaias chuckle a bit and then I fall silently into thought.

Flashbacks (3)

Bridget couldn’t remember ever feeling this bad.  Too tired, too hurt to move; even crying was too much work.  She wanted to die, but even that was too hard for her to do.