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Sonora
On Mental Health
I was but a teen blessed with the gift of losing myself. Don’t know when, where, or even how I swayed the arms of presence but I’d be gone. Just one of those habits, drifting away or off to a different planet. Knowing now, I was simply numb. Numb. What does that mean to a broken one? Nothing. No ups or emotional baggage, buried long ago and tossed away the shovel. Believing my lies to no longer be troublesome.
Some poems don’t want to come out all at once. They take years to form waiting for a host or a culprit to hold. And as I was held by its experience thus was the way that it was told. Kintsugi isn’t art without the gold. My cracks, leaking onto paper like fossilized oil. They drew what seemed to be nothing more than haphazard pictures. Nothing more. They meant nothing more than things to observe over my nightstand. Abstract pieces and yet they weren't. One in particular always stood out. Sonora. Young, pregnant; angel, judging by the wings. Long black hair, parted, revealing a dagger held by her heart. A tear. A single one thrown at a floor now shattered. Why had she done it? Nothing more. She meant nothing more than a pretty inkblot. Years go by….
It’s been a decade and I’ve moved on, away from Sonora, garbaged long ago. Life is magical as such a pure statement, and these days, I can feel nothing more than Magis in the lungs that I breathe. And so I shared. I shared the past of all my drawings. I was asked and this as per usual meant nothing more, but yet, it wasn't. No longer numb, the truth was now my trouble.
Some stories take you by surprise even when you know them. Hearing it shared turned back the clock with an added perspective. It didn't feel good. Didn't look good either: Sonora, left behind, crushed by my old baggage. Or so I thought until she later came to visit:
“Mom,
I never knew the pain the world caused you as a child. The kind that can only be given by God as a gift to her creatures. It wasn’t born until you drew a dagger through my heart. Fallen from above, I’ve searched for you. Only to tell you that you're not alone, so I bore this pain for you. And now, I came to release it with you.
Sonora "
(Please share)
Excerpt from Serero by Nathalie C.M. Sabbagh
About the Creator
Nathalie C.M. Sabbagh
I don't see the world the same; none of us do, and yet, here we are, somehow connected with this greater intelligence called life, as part of the process and not as separate. These are excerpts from my books,
www.nathaliecmsabbagh.com
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Comments (5)
Congrats on Top Story!!
This was moving Nathalie. I had to read it twice to enjoy the subtleties. Your sentences feel rhythmic and one of a kind. Good job on TS, you earned it.
Oh, this gave me chills. What a powerful message. You've written this with such vivid poetry - this is so beautiful. Congratulations on Top Story!
I'm really happy to see a piece like this featured. The way pain or mental illness can burrow in us, find our cracks or form our cracks when we're children, can be so isolating and can also materialize at really surprising moments in our lives. I appreciate the themes in this - subtle and gentle - and I think your perspective and your storytelling bring a unique kind or warmth to this topic. I read it twice, both times picking up a different message - maybe like turning a kintsugi vase to see it from different angles? I plan to share this with some friends who also know mental health struggles. Beautiful work.
Take care, Nathalie!