All at once I felt utterly isolated
Then just as suddenly the words changed yet again
In the trees at night I think I hear her cries
It will stop, she told him,
It will all one day cease
Now that we are hopelessly lost
Will there be a place for the hidden toys?
In the courtyard they did stand in quiet solemnity
But is too much to think of now, too much to ever possibly
Comprehend
I want so much for her to tell me how I make the pain disappear
More glad with each passing moment
To be waiting for sleep to bathe me in the shared silence of nothing
To find the reasons for the searching
And arrive back at a place that has not yet been invented.
Copyright 2016 by Andrew Bradford. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission.
foreboding, perpetual torment, the loss of something loved, ‘waiting for sleep to bathe me the shared silence of nothing’ that feeling we all get from time to time, when there seems to be no end or no answers…