Raindrops hurl to the pavement, pooling, streaming,
Seeking inlets in which to rest.
I lie in bed hearing the swoosh of tires as cars glide by,
Infrequently, at four in the morning.
Too early for all but the most industrious commuters,
Too late for revelers, passed out in beds.
I listen, so I don’t start to think.
Those thoughts that come in the dark of night
Those streams of questions coursing through my mind,
I choose instead to listen.
The rhythmic breathing of my partner, at times punctuated by a snore of surprise.
The dreams of the dog, defending us. Brave, even in slumber.
The shush of the rain, cleansing us, quenching us, so that we can rise,
Glistening in the light of a new day.
The One Who Never Leaves
How quick the return.
A harsh comment
A look of disgust
A threat to leave
Brings him back to you.
That weak-kneed little boy
Standing so small
Deep inside your soul.
Eyes brimming with tears
Voice shaking, whispering,
“I’m so scared”.
You thought you dealt with this,
In years of therapy.
You held him
Heard him out
Told him he was safe now.
Then you moved on
Got tough, grew a pair
More polished than a brand-new pair of shoes.
At least you thought so.
Oh, how vulnerable we are.
How thin the veneer
How fragile the shell
How deep the wound,