He was like a child in the night
I cried for what is to come, for what the future holds. It was the tears of the past, but also tears of the present and of the future. A realization that things were not going to be easy, they are not going to be simple. I cried for not knowing when I should step out, not knowing at which point is the point. I still do not know how much weight to carry, how far I can go for the both of us. The weight of a child, I can hold. This I know. I can comfort, I can kiss the wounds. But it is the weight of a man that leaves me wondering. I am a woman, and no woman should carry the weight of a full grown man, our bodies aren’t meant for that kind of pressure. I believe fully that no woman can accept that because a man dies, it is now her time to die too.
For now all I can do is hold my sorrowful child when he comes to me in the night when I find him at the foot of my bed waking me, too afraid of the demons that come to him in the dark. This was also the night that before sleeping I asked so desperately for dreams, and all I received were nightmares.
For now all I can do is hold my sorrowful child when he comes to me in the night when I find him at the foot of my bed waking me, too afraid of the demons that come to him in the dark. This was also the night that before sleeping I asked so desperately for dreams, and all I received were nightmares.