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,
alone,
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
