Here in the tall willows, away from the eyes, the mockingbirds dare lie, they whisper in tunes, a hi, a hi.
Cindy laid in the tall grass, holding her doll, wishing it was real or this whole life was a dream.
Her brother had been killed in a war, Vietnam, her mother had cried there in the kitchen.
Cindy tried not to cry as she ran out of the kitchen, the tears were beginning to fly.
It wasn’t fair.
He was only 19.
He had told her he would come home alive.
He promised.
He lied.
There he laid, in that box, a shell, a corpse.
Cindy didn’t want to go to his funeral.
But she did.
Mother needed her support.
She had told Cindy that as Cindy sat in the back seat of the car, heading to the funeral home.
A flag covered the casket as it sat there, waiting to be lowered into the grave.
Mother never spoke of it again.
Cindy would hear her late at night, crying, for many years.
“I’ll be okay!” she told Cindy as she prepared to leave for her college.
Cindy got a call from her town’s sheriff, her mother decided to join Cindy’s brother by overdosing on sleeping pills and alcohol.
Another head stone to wait.
Cindy didn’t cry.
She shook friends’ hands at the wake.
“She was a good woman, she was strong…”
Cindy hated it, standing there, pretending her mother was strong.
Cindy was the last of the tribe, didn’t want to be, her father died before she was three.
She shut down, closed up, lied, said she was okay, Mother was with God and Cindy’s brother, but she wasn’t fine.
Mother lied.
Everyone dies.
She sat in the lonely quiet home, sitting on the floor, playing with that same doll, wishing she was real.
Was this life?
Just to lie, “I’m okay, don’t worry about me!”?
Cindy went to bed, to dream of a better time.
WANDERING WHERE I AM GOING! 