After bedtime, in the dark
gripping the edge of my crib
calling, calling, calling out
as I so often did:
“Mowie!
I want you!
I need you!”
Silence, looming silence,
mocks me in reply.
I raise my voice, bravely
mustering yet another try:
“Mowie!
I want you!
I need you!”
Hours later (so it feels)
exhausted by my fears
I let go, sit down,
find my blankie,
dissolving into tears.
* * * * *
Her frail unsteady body
barracades the door.
Voice breaking, eyes glistening
she pleads with me once more:
“I don’t want to let you go!”
I clench my jaw, soothe my voice
promise to come again.
Praying that when I return
she’ll remember who I am.
* * * * *
I’m driving into darkness
helpless, lost, and small
that cried-out voice still echoing
her sad, scared, lonely call:
I want you!
I need you!”
I don’t want to let you go.
Silence, brooding silence
echoes in reply.
I’ve lived so long without you
but still can’t say good bye.