His lips
shape sinuous words,
but only silence reaches my ears
as he confronts
my still psyche.
This might be
a final goodbye,
yet I let the question
float on the horizon.
I watch,
fascinated
that threats and lies
can be so easily dumbed
by a medicated sky.
All around him,
childhood trinkets and toys
rain around his untouchable frame.
They sink, lost forever
beneath the blind sea.
I recline on sturdy rock;
hazily trusting it will hold me.
If I am strong,
the waves
will not drown me.
Should the message
be his final goodbye,
tomorrow
might bring solemn women or men
whose warning uniforms
and gentle breath
will lower me
into the wild vale of grief.
If this is to be,
I’ll reshape the vision,
paint flowers at his feet,
add a balloon, fill it
with five fathoms of words
describing all the love
he ever felt for me,
but for now
the air caresses me,
and I sleep.
Written for Word of the Day Challenge: Fathom
This is the fear that the loved ones of addicts face every day. We learn to push it to the back of our minds, but it’s always there, waiting until the addict has a wobble. That’s when the fear goes into full attack mode.
©Jane Paterson Basil