Beyond a Distant Star

Words are very important to me and it’s a powerful medium that reaches to the core of my soul. My interest and fascination in poetry began when I discovered that poems are open to interpretation and can be read in as many ways as one chooses to read it. I like the ambiguity because nobody knows exactly what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling. Tonight, I’m not interested in writing poetry or fictitious letters. I guess my writing acts as an open declaration so that I would be hard on myself to stick to the decisions I’ve made. Tonight marks a closed chapter and the finality of the night is accentuated because it ended where things first began. The disbelief and pain came two years late, but it feels as raw as an open wound. This sudden turn of events once again reminds me that I’m as fragile as anyone else though I choose to believe that I’m special: calm, collected, and wise, unlike the run-of-the-mill girl. But this slap-in-the-face realization is also a discovery that whatever was shared was real and sweet, which makes memories doubly painful.

Somehow I draw people to share their pain with me and I easily dispense advice to them. I listen, empathize and advise. It is almost second nature. But when it’s my turn to be thrown off boat, my faith is clouded by doubts. There are so many times when Paul has scooped me up before I fall further. I remember every single call he gave because there aren’t many and he only appears to call during my crisis moments: that afternoon when I was plagued by stress in school, the morning I laid in bed when I was severely ill, the night before my exams, and tonight at midnight. I am always amazed by his discernment and timely calls in which I don’t say much. I listen, nod and occasionally murmur a ‘Yes’ to indicate that I’m still on the line. But somewhere in that unspoken silence, there is a quiet understanding.

When we hung up, I thought about my interviews with the ex-convicts and it doesn’t trivialize the issues I deal with but it makes me feel that there life is bountiful. I can’t remember much of the long conversation with Paul except this line he said, “You pray, believe and things will be alright”. Tomorrow I wake to a brand new day and a fresh new start. Though I know that it is a closed chapter, I am left with the most beautiful and irreplaceable memories of those two and a half years and there is no better way for a closure.