A Revolving Door

There are 365 days in every year,

Each of those days holds 24 hours,

And each hour owns 60 minutes, where there's 60 seconds per minute.


Lives can change in a matter of seconds, but in the span of an entire year,

you're shaped and molded by hundreds of thousands of seconds,

to be exact 31,556,926 seconds.

The entirety of 2016 was defined by two minutes in 2015,

My entire world was shifted by a phone call,

A phone call that lasted 120 seconds,

Those 120 seconds were enough to give 31,556,926 more seconds a purpose,

I spent 2016 trying to define grief without allowing grief to define me.

When the hospital called us and told my family my mother had passed away, 

I immediately felt the floor give out underneath me,

The first month after that night was a blur, I slept a lot, yet not at all,

I listened to music, yet I heard nothing,

My eyes were too heavy to close, my breaths too labored to inhale.


By the second month, the funeral was over.


By the third I began seeing the changes.

The girl who never cried began sobbing,

She who never displayed anger slammed doors and punched walls,

The girl who was always strong began crumbling in front of everyone.


They always tell you grief feels like waves, coming and going all at once,

To me, grief was a revolving door,

No matter how hard I fought and how normal I made myself feel,

I always came back to the anger, the anxiety, and the depression.

Every month introduced another stage of grief, however there was no order,

One day I was angry, the next I was sad,

The next I told myself, "yes, she's gone. It's okay,"

Only to revoke my resignation and become infuriated the following day.

There should be a stage called the "Oh crap, I'm mortal, I'm scared" stage,

for weeks the idea of my own demise began deteriorating my mental state,

Nuclear warfare, international crisis, and even a home invader with ill intentions,

these thoughts tormented me, day in and day out,

I was afraid to leave my house, or even open up to anyone,

I knew how ridiculous it sounded. 


In one month, there are 30 days, where there are 12 months in one year,

And every new month that passed by was a little different than the last,

Until a year and a half went by, 

People always say, "You're so strong; I could never do it,"

But they do. I did. 


I look back at the anxiety and pain I felt, and I'm immune,

I was stuck in a revolving door of grief until I looked behind me,

I saw people standing there, staring, waiting for me to figure it out and exit

through the other side,

I looked in front of me, at the people who had just walked up,

the people who saw me for just a second and had faith I'd figure it out,

I looked back at the people behind me again, those who felt bad for my struggle,

I moved forward. 

I exited the revolving door,

I continued to move forward, every now and then turning behind me,

for my eyes to be greeted with someone going through the same battle,

around and around and around and around,

Crossing the street, I was dizzy,

And thinking about my struggle, how little I knew then compared to now,

I was a different person.

The person I was now was more educated, I'd know how to get through the next

revolving door,

I wasn't afraid I'd never get out,

I was a new person.


So far, in 2017 I think about human nature,

Everyone changes, some more drastic than others,

some for different reasons than others,

but everyone changes.

At some point in your life, you will be unrecognizable to even yourself,

That's okay, change, evolve, figure things out, make mistakes in the meantime,

and then look back a year from now and embrace the new you.


I am stronger, I am unafraid, I am grateful for the loved ones I have now,

I am tolerant, and my name remains the same through the years,

however I am a stranger to the person I was 365 days, 525,600 minutes,

And 31,556,926 seconds ago.

And I'm better for it. 




This poem is about: 
My family


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