Last Friday, a friend passed me a CD of songs with instructions to hole myself in my room and listen from track 1 to 20. I attempted to do just that on Sunday night, but distraction came in the form of writing and the music was soon relegated to become the haunting background for my idea generation.
Yesterday, I finally settled into the couch to pay my full attention to the songs, some of which were already consistent favorites on my playlist. I listened, and I suppose on some subconscious level, I internalized for when Ingrid Michaelson's A Bird's Song snuck up unexpectedly on my own playlist in the late night, I bawled like a baby.
"When I would play my song
You used to sing along.
I always seem to forget
How fragile are the very strong.
I’m sorry I can’t steal you
I’m sorry I can’t stay
So I put band-aids on your knees
And watch you fly away.
I’m sending you away tonight
I’ll put you on a bird’s strong wing
I’m saving you the best way I know how
I hope again one day to hear you sing."
The song struck a chord when my brother first got hospitalized, but I had listened to it countless times since with nary a tear. Last night however, the lyrics took on a life of their own and twisted their lyrical limbs around my heart. The pain shot through the armor of indifference I've settled into and for the first time, I felt the loss.
To all my friends to have smiled and laughed with me in the past weeks, thank you for moving me along and for allowing me to forget. To wooka, thank you for knowing and understanding, even when I didn't, the need for emotional catharsis.
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