A whisper in a storm
drown out my voice,
my secrets.
Shared through hard interrogation,
words I could barely force to utter.
You are just a shadow falling
from behind your downpour curtain.
I’m not sure you ever heard me,
even before the storm,
when I was shouting.
I think you were just
reading lips,
taking in my gestures,
body language speaks
louder than words.
Sometimes it screams
something unavoidable.
It that’s the case,
what am I saying now?
I won’t speak
I won’t say those words
that you think I’m thinking.
I don’t believe
that we were ever
any better off
than we are
right now,
or that we will be.
Just imagine how strong
we will be
if we can survive the storm.
I watch you turn away
and for a brief moment
I can see
that look of wild panic
in your eyes,
seeking some escape
and I don’t blame you.
I can barely make out
and outline of you.
It’s really coming down
and it’s tough not to feel
alone and abandoned,
but I’m still here
and even if we lose sight
of each other,
when this is all over
I will still be here.
Whispering,
calling your name.
Softly as I can,
just to see
if you’re listening.
This is just a test.
Everything is just a test.
That broad, familiar sky,
is just a test.
When the storm breaks,
you’ll see that it
was just a test, too.
Do you hear me?
Do you see?
I’m still calling out to you.
Do you hear me?
Do you see?
I’m right here in front of you.
HG – 2018
