For Jena

December 27, 2002


I’ll go out on a limb and chance it snapping under my weight to succeed in preserving the sanctity of our friendship. I knock on your door knowing full well you are home, but I am left standing in the cold on the outside wondering if you even know it’s me. Such a beautiful face, and body, and spirit, but sadly, the world may never behold nature’s special creation for it has already passed you by. Becoming strangers with a best friend is unacceptable to me. I have experienced this occurrence before and time did not allow the luxury of a reconciliation. We have been close, you and I, but through the years of aches and pains, addiction, and distant miles, our capacity to hold any real sustenance between us has decreased in size. I don’t like losing friends, especially if they are still walking this earth. Perhaps a breath of fresh air is all you need to persuade you out of your thickly spun cocoon. I’m afraid that you may fear the workings of life and are unable to obtain the much-needed direction I myself have just recently mapped out. Would it be too offensive to suggest that far-fetched ideas that will never be acted upon must be temporarily pushed aside for foothills leading to mountains?

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist