I’ve been reminded

If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen it:

What pushes my eyebrows together;

What clutches at my heart and mind.

If you’ve heard me, you’ve heard it:

What looks like silence or empty sound, but is words turned inward,

And I unknowingly wish ill for myself.

I know God, and I’d never think to extinguish this –

Yet, I forget vigilance, and the dark swallows my light, since it cannot have me.

If you’ve known me, you’ve known it,

And if you’ve felt me, you’ve felt it,

And now, I see it, hear it, know it, and feel it –

Please, remind me of goodness and of pastimes

In a form that I can revel in –

That I’ll preserve with present

And future joy.

Thoughts and Entries

Waiting behind me, she needs me.

Not me, I guess, but a person, at least, to offer their presence and so disrupt that persistent darting of the mind to its more horrifying regions; to nagging needs and endless questions that are without answer.

She herself knows she is not sick, and yet every minute or so she coughs while she reads, insisting on finishing this one chapter.

Then, she will pull up her covers and sleep, no longer thinking of poisons, murderers, or uncanny creatures (and other various superstitions).

That is, as long as I am present, as a person, and lay unmoving beside her in the dark.