Chapter 3
The pain of my life builds a shield or a wall,
Made of bandages wrapped ‘round my soul.
I could not be callous though a bruise covers all —
The bleeding is making me whole.
I wane through the waxing and wax though I wane.
I live so I love so I hurt so I’m real.
I live with the madness that drives one sane,
And I hope I shall never be healed.
“On the Edge of Laughter and Tears”
—Annalise Phenix
[San Jose, CA — Dana]
San Jose International Airport was hot and full of people. I passed the flight to Dallas with my nose buried in a fantasy novel.
I sat in the window for the over-seas flight. My seat-mate was a young woman with a two-month-old baby. “We’re going to see grandma.” She seemed overly-thin for a new mother. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe pony-tail, l
