Blackbird

Your Mama's Name Was Lonely

"Rena you have to eat something" Ms. Vanessa said sliding a plate of food in front of me. I just stared at it blankly, I didn't have an appetite. How could I eat when my little sister was dead? The reason I kept going, the reason I fought so hard, the reason I felt like there was some good left in the world is dead, and she's never coming back. I was supposed to protect her from them and I failed. "Tara wouldn't want-"

"Don't say her name" I snapped. Ms. Vanessa looked surprised, it was the first words I'd spoken in days. After they told me that she died I begged them to tell me how. I cried and screamed until they did, then I wished I hadn't. She had been raped and beaten to death and they still haven't caught him but Teresa is in jail awaiting sentencing. She doesn't deserve to be called a mother, matter of fact she doesn't deserve to be alive; she is a monster. Teresa Klein wife of Daniel Klein, mother to Tara Williams and Rena Klein. Before they became tainted by drugs and alcohol they were good parents.

They loved me, but at some point they decided they loved heroin and alcohol better. I remember that they used to love reading me to sleep and taking me on long walks in the park then we'd get ice cream. We'd watch cartoons every Saturday morning after cooking breakfast together. We were a family, a real one then something changed. Teresa was a whole new person, it was like the sparkle in her eye began to fade, I was 5. My dad, Daniel, saw it too so instead of getting her help he picked up a bottle and never put it back down. I'll get to his story later but Teresa brought in waves of random men after he was gone. One of them ended up being Tara's dad but just like the rest he didn't stay long. None of them were consistent and that's probably why she was so lonely. Doesn't give her an excuse to be a piss poor excuse for a human being but she wasn't always that way.

Today I was supposed to be checking out of the hospital and taken home but instead I'm stuck here on suicide watch and they're bringing in a psychiatrist to evaluate my mental state. If you want to know how I feel, one word that begins to describe it is empty. Everyday it gets harder to keep going. Days go by and Evan comes in and climbs onto the bed next to me it's seems to be a ritual now. Being around him makes my reality seem a little less real. Sometimes he will play music and we'll sit in silence, though his presence is comforting. Other times he'll read me poetry. After weeks of listening and not hearing, one day I did. Out of his pocket he pulled his usual piece of paper with words scrawled on it and he read.

"A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind  
and floats downstream  
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and  
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings  
with a fearful trill  
of things unknown  
but longed for still  
and his tune is heard  
on the distant hill  
for the caged bird  
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams  
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream  
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied  
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings  
with a fearful trill  
of things unknown  
but longed for still  
and his tune is heard  
on the distant hill  
for the caged bird  
sings of freedom"

"That's Maya Angelou" I spoke quietly. He nodded and handed the paper to me. I stared at the paper taking in the words. "Evan?"

"Yeah Rena?" he replied.

"I'm that caged bird"

"I know but you don't have to continue being caged......you can be free"