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this-epiphany — April, 2004
by-nc-nd
Published: 2012-07-15 08:11:18 +0000 UTC; Views: 1057; Favourites: 35; Downloads: 7
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Description
I was fifteen. eight hoursin the waiting room remembering
the ride, lights flashing, you
crying through your oxygen
mask, saying I'm okay,
I'm okay. I still hear you
when I close my eyes,
see the man across the room,
folding paper cranes out of
magazine pages &
pamphlets about every
kind of pain. after six hours
he taught me the right way
to fold a wing
& it was, I think, the one thing
that saved me: each
smooth and steady crease
a promise.
---
Comments: 14
Little distractions sure do amount to so very much, eh?
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oh, they get us through so often.
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Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by =DailyLitDeviations in a news article that can be found here: [link]
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thank you so much 
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Such a beautiful sincere heartbreaking moment. You have given us a gift in sharing this
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sometimes, when you can't stop yourself from reliving something or obsessing over something, writing it out is the only way it stops. i wonder if it's because then, it knows it's been recognised. thoughts and people are alike- neither wants to be ignored.
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yeah, I sometimes think it's like that. because someone out there somewhere, someday, might read it and be like - I totally understand. and that helps quiet the restlessness and the obsessing.
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i think that's writing's purpose in general, even!
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Beautifully written. I love the detail about the paper cranes and the gentleman patiently folding them... Not only soothing but the deeper meaning behind them, a wish for peace and if enough are folded the possibility of recovery from illness and pain.
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yes, like the thousand paper cranes from Hiroshima. I was thinking about that the whole time I was folding. Thank you for reading
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