The Lines of Vanity


Erratically aware of the tenacious gravity slowly crushing the insides of my being
My lips part and give way to heavy solidified breathing
Density which abrasively hints at the discomposure taking place inside these
Membrane walls
like fog its thickened hue weaves patterns in the city frost
Starkly contrasting the burn of disintegrated flesh like coal
Sister to the arctic edifice of my ambiguous soul
Its cold- the woven scarf tightens around my neck
Its warmth sufficing only long enough to remind me that I am not yet dead
A loose noose of dissimulated protection hanging me by the tension of its perfection
One last attempt to release life from my eyes like manuscripts tears tell of hauntings of a headless soldier cries
Sleeping weeping hollows deceased-that is me or rather I am she in glamour dipped- for my mind owed me everything I ever had to give
Keeping locked into its crevices the ability to think

I trudge- a passive step closer to the rainbow on this green mile
Stretch of desolate corners capered vengeance of the days tiled
With linoleum of cheap teeth- glaring of the remains of whats not there to eat
It has been three days since I last smelled the sweet
Aroma of water
Add three to these dreams, multiplied by 24 consistant 60’s times itself
since the time I last tasted its merciful help
This cannot be granted- taken, shaken or vanquished
Unrenewable source of deaths prancing casualties
Leaves a chilling fear of gravity that’s already crushing the insides of my being

- Mayra Pereira ©2010

Driving to pick up my mom from work one day, we are sitting at a red light and as I look over there is a homeless woman on the side of the road. Approaching the light, she had been standing at the corner with her sign- but as the car rolled to a stop I saw her turn away from the street and sit down on a small rock, and just cry. Heavy heaving cries- deep sobs into her sleeves. I could not hear her, but as she turned her face to the sky in agony I could almost make out her lips crying out to God in dispair. My heart was broken and I was infuriated. Suddenly nothing made sense anymore. Here I sat in this black shiny 2009 BMW, all the works, but I had not a single dollar to give her. How could I show my face to this woman and tell her that I didnt have a dime to my name- but that God loved her? And then do what? Get back in my BMW and drive away? My blood boiled- how could a seeming blessing be such a curse in a time like this. I prayed- tears streaming- my heart shattered- angry I fought with God. WHY? Why does she have to go through this? HOW? How can I possibly sit here fussing about my situation in complete helplessness unable to provide any financial assitance to her and yet I have what most would look at as priviledge? Now it is a curse. I felt embarrassed. I don't know if any of you have ever in your life experienced the suffering of anothers heart- but that day God put her burden in mines. As I looked at her sobbing, it was as if I sat there on the rock next to her. I failed her that day- not because I didnt give her a dollar or 5 or 10, not because I didnt buy her a meal, but because I didn't get out of my car and share with her the most valuable thing I had- the truth of God's love and salvation. The light changed to green, and when we came back around 10 mins later- she was gone. But the impression of that moment, although she may never know, has marked me forever. My heart will always carry a small piece of hers, and I trust that God heard my prayer on her behalf, but I am not satisfied with a cowardice prayer. I need to do more. Homeless is a piece that came from that day, really trying to put mind in a place outside myself. I have not yet finished it, but this is where the verse has stayed as of now. My prayer is this- God use me. That is all- letting myself be in the disposition of God's servanthood and maybe one day God will grant me the opportunity to see her again. 

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