Another issue of Late Night Writing… I’ve been making a lot of big strides lately, but every one comes with an emotional toll with Dad everpresent in my heart.
One foot, after the other, footfalls, heavy.
The sorrow springs forth without notice from where it lies. Buried in the garden, buried in the fields. Scattered over streams winding far away from here. In the end, not buried at all. Barely masked, barely hidden.
A day becomes a month, two steps from half a year, four from a decade. Pain should fade before the memories, instead pain comes without memories, and memories won’t feature without the hurt.
Watch – another step forward, falling through two decades before it lands. Half wishing to be taken with it to fill my lungs with dust and dirt on the floor.
Listen – no rhythm to the movement. No familiarity in the drumming. Just one step, then another, weighed down by the world.
I’m longing for the day when the weight lifts, and terrified for the day when there’s none left to bear. When it doesn’t hurt so much, will my thoughts still turn to you?
Options fall away and the blinders come on. Nothing left now but the road. Would you bank your pride upon my progress?
One foot, after the other, pushing forward against the storm of dust. Each step saturated with all of you. Each step moving further from you.
There’s something to be said of the simplicity of living amongst the ashes.
Please.
Look out over the future with me. Lend an ear to the wind’s last whistle. One foot, after the other. Footfalls, heavier.
Esther Vale 