Blue Pajama Pants

When I was little, 
I saw you for the first time. 
Who were you? Where were you going?
 I was flipping through television channels, 
and stopped when I saw your face. 
My heart went out to you. 
To you, your weak body, 
making its way to somewhere 
I didn't know at the time.
You wore blue pajama pants that day. 
Did you fall? Were you okay? 
I had so many questions I never asked. 
Did someone hurt you? Were you in trouble? 
I always kept quiet. 

But you were on my mind since then, 
this mysterious person I saw on television that day. 
It always seemed as if I had muted the television that day, 
because I remember no noise; 
just a silence that symbolized the heart... 
a beating, worn, empty heart. 
It was so loud inside my head after I saw you. 
The voices began to make me forget you. 
I never knew your name, your voice, your life. 

But suddenly, I saw you again, just a few years later. 
I began to remember that sullen face. 
It took some time, but I saw that day play before me, 
when I realized what had happened 
No strength seemed to be left in you. 
The emotional agony had depleted you. 
And my questions were answered. 
You were someone with a heart of gold,
a gentle nature, with a passion for the arts. 
You were going to a room 
people drew pictures and took photos of you in. 
You fell down a flight of stairs in weakness. 
You were very hurt, and someone had accused you. 
And anyone with a heart, would certainly tell that you were not okay. 

The voices came back and discovered who you really are, 
and since the day He took you in His arms, 
and the angels lulled you into heavenly slumber, 
my love for you surged infinity and beyond. 
You found peace, and the pain had gone away. 
But there is still a part of me, 
that lies awake and wonders, 
"Why can't they leave you alone?" 
It would be the same as a mother telling her defiant child, 
"Shh, your brother is sleeping." 
Let him rest, I say! 
But your soul is forever, 
and I believe to this day, 
that you're there, 
somewhere, 
in your small way. 
And you wrap your wings around us, 
and whisper, "I love you more." 

Our hearts shatter, then mend, and shatter again. 

What hurts, 
however, 
through all that, 
is through these bloodstained, shattered mirrors of the past... 
When I saw your face so long ago, 
I looked in your eyes, shielded in tinted aviators, 
and whispered something to myself that I never forgot: 
"He's very sad, isn't he?" 


©LJ
13 June 2013 
Completed 2:03am EST