Internal Discussions

Nightmare

I see you every now and then.

You come in the form of a dream:

You're wobbling around the living-room carpet,

Falling into cartwheels and laughing so hard—

I don't know how you can breathe.

Your laughter steals the air in the room,

Along with my heart

And the heart of the woman next to you. . .

It's the same heart I share with you.

I see you standing—

On your tippy-toes,

Standing atop my feet,

As I waltz around the room

Humming and singing silly-songs that make no sense.

I pass you off to the woman of my dreams,

And I watch

As she twirls you

Until your smile is bigger than Orion's Belt.

Sparkles dance off the white of your teeth

And shine straight into my eyes.

The next thing I see

Is you...

Knelt down at the foot of your dinosaur-print bed

—your mom picked it—

Hands clasped,

Eyes closed,

Whispering to God as you pray.

I don't know what you're praying for,

But it reminds me of me

When I was your age:

Praying for a new bike

Or

A new pair of Nikes—

Things I never needed,

But wanted.

I take a step into your room,

Sliding past the skinny space you leave open

(Your mom's idea, to make you feel safe),

And

I see a tear—

One tear,

Hanging from your eye like it's scared to let go.

It's a sad tear:

I can tell by the sudden sound of sniffles

Spurting from your nose

As you fight back the rest of the tears

Stirring in your heart.

I think: you're too young to cry,

To feel sadness like this.

Though, it's as if I'm looking in a mirror,

'Cause I used to cry, too,

Just like you—

And in the same way you do:

Embarrassed

But not ashamed,

Scared

But not afraid.

I knock before I come in.

—You'd rather me not,

But your slumped shoulders

And the rapid beat of your heart

Would like me to.

I kneel down next to you

And stay there, in silence,

Till I hear your breath return

To a pleasant sound of whispers and small whistles:

The same sounds you would have made

(before and after)

Blowing the flames off the candles on your fourth birthday.

I feel a calm breeze in the air,

Sneaking in through the crack in your bedroom window.

I walk towards it,

To close it,

So you can sleep in peace;

When

I suddenly stumble,

Losing balance and falling to my knees.

The floor begins to tremble and shake;

The window shatters and all the pain and aches

—From Hell itself, storm in...

For a soul

They have to take.

"No! No!—take mine—it's mine you want!"

I scream, but

It's too late.

Your body begins to fade—flickering

Like a dying light.

I reach for you—in hopes I can hold you

One

Last

Time.

But,

As soon as I feel the smoothness of your skin—

You shatter—no, burst!

Into ashes,

That fall on the wooden floor like snow

On the saddest, darkest of days.

I cry and cry, till it snaps! me awake,

And,

Even in this state, I sob

Because,

I never got a chance to give you

A name. . . .