Calling for Help

I thought I heard you cry.

Your voice echoed in the distance.

I thought you were in pain.

I thought you needed rescue,

and my brain was so insistent.

I got up from my place,

sallow black and deep in comfort.

Blinking through narcotic haze,

turning down my television

that I might hear you cry again,

and by that,

know which direction

I should start walking in.


Fighting every distraction.

Turning my face away

from where the liquid illuminates;

dull, blue alien glow.

Shut it all out

and show me.

I’m in the darkness, now;

standing outside my house,

disconnected from everything

and straining to hear you

cry out again,

so that I might save you.

But, I am so afraid,


and without guidance.


From deep, down inside,

comes a knife through the night,

severing the silence,

and I hear you scream.

An endless, wailing cry.

One of abandonment and fear,

desperation and pain

and it’s coming

out of my mouth.


There you are.

So afraid.

So am I.

So am I.

I’m terrified.



HG – 2019


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