There is a circadian rhythm to human suffering.

There is a circadian rhythm to human suffering because

Mount Everest is 8,848 meters bigger than me

and the brimming vastness of valleys we cross

are easy to be feared with brightened eyes

from the top of the hill before

ignoble bodies venture down slopes.

 

96 years later we’d go back and do it all again.

But why look back

at mountains confusions loss doubts tragedies fears obstacles

punishments adversaries rainy days torments scars to merely giggle,

“time flies when you’re having fun..”                       then die softly?

 

There is a circadian rhythm to human suffering but

subtle hopes have roots 8,849 meters deeper than me

and twirling dreams from the eyes of children

who know nothing but poverty, believing

“I’m gonna be a movie star when I’m all grown up”

are by no means washed away by wrinkles

 

Subtle hopes are just that. Secrets.

Shadowed by Emin, Tyree, Lhotse, Diran, and Triglav

Nevertheless …

Four years old and daddy let me try on clothes at the department store

I said, “daddy please wait for me, stick around here.”

Finally I achieved princess status in a glowing, reddened dress

I rushed out of the dressing room to spin ruffles for my prince.

But daddy was gone.

My highest tippy toes helped me skim with my eyes where my daddy could be.

My efforts were futile; I could not see over towering layers of clothing racks.

Princes are supposed to make princesses feel safe.

But my daddy would never be able to find me in that giant warehouse. Younkers.

I immediately grasped my face with my baby hands. I grasped my face because I knew those hands were all that was left to hold me and my flowing tears together now.

I stood frozen and my usually cherry colored cheeks bled throughout my face in a blushing panic.

I began screaming through tears, “DADDY! WHERE ARE YOU, DADDY?”

The screams attracted strangers. Worried looks.

Where is your daddy? We’ll help you find him.

Come with us, little girl. Let’s go look for your father.

But those people were nothing.

I screamed through them, dismissed them

I just wanted to find daddy.

Because he cut my umbilical cord and tucked me in at night.

Forever and ever passed but finally, daddy found me!

It was all okay now.

Daddy just got sidetracked while I was in the dressing room.

He wandered off to different parts of the store.

I was happy to find my daddy.

But I was reluctant when I held his hand once again.

I was reluctant because I knew princes didn’t abandon their princesses.

When I held daddy’s hand once again

I promised myself I would never trust Daddy or Disney ever again.

When I was 13 years old

my daddy left me again. This time he went to prison.

Cinderella’s prince doesn’t wear handcuffs.

What truly stands through this all is a more subtle truth about the world. It’s the secret hopes we have inside us that somehow carry us through the hardships and allow us to come out happy.

My personal secret hope

Resilience Rooted in My Human Bones

was that maybe happy ever afters do come true.

We were both 17 when we locked eyes. It was a festival.

His skin dark. His eyes innocent. Omnipotent.

Omnieverything I ever wanted. . .

He sneaks through my bedroom window every night

He’s not like daddy

But he is mine