In and out and in and out I wander through the door that holds my world within it and world of all of us without. Yet, it is my backyard, enjoyed this year in daylight as in dark.
Some minutes–sometimes hours, if you’re lucky–some days make you want to live forever, believe in something greater than us all that you can thank. A sharp-shinned hawk is circling, circling in widening arcs in perfect calm despite attacks from six some-kind-of-black birds. He is on a mission, or maybe heading home, his belly full of baby some-kind-of-black bird. I wonder.
Inside the house the metal, plastic parts spill out into the rooms with wires, cables, everything that makes a thing to see and hear and study and all life easier; computers. Inside the house inside my head a young man walks and thinks of what he’s yet to do without remorse, his final act and yet his eyes grow glassy tears to think of his own shattered family buried far away. He nudges me to tell his story. I don’t know if I can.
My mind is freed and yet it’s focused in a desperate kind of effort though I’m not sure where the focus even lies.
Sometimes, some days just make you want to live.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology