POETRY

Dreams were my passion, my solitude
Passing of the day was precious as it brought me glorious black
Has it been too long I wonder,
Will I ever return to that far away land?
Would I remember how to step off a window and not fall
But soar, so softly, so crisply…

Nights are dreaded now, they are my foe
Daily distractions-my best friend- abandon me
I am left to my own devices for entertainment
Like a 4 year old on a car trip-
I wish my heart was 4- It could not be burdened then

Some are annoyed by a mother’s phone call- not I
My hands tremble as I see her number on the caller ID
I can’t ignore it, because not even my mom can bear the weight
Of this horror my family is in
My mom is one tough chick, not the soft cookie I am, not the career mom I’ll be
She manages beautifully, herself and my younger brother
Considering

I am not referring to death, although sometimes I feel it would be easier
Nor to sickness, as thank God he is healthy
I am referring to my mom’s answer to my brother’s persistent questions
“But, what has dad done wrong?”
She is firm in her tone: “Nothing honey, absolutely nothing.”
But in this world, innocence is the new crime
Nightmares are the new dreams.