I don’t know why it started, why you arrived here or why it is you. I don’t know how you lit the germ of hope or what it will mean in the future. Yes, I had my line paid out, fishing for something in the coming darkness. But maybe it was just for the look of the thing, out of principal rather than hope. Despite helpful friends I looked to myself to survive. Stoic, isolated and ready for the worst.

How can I tell you of the shadow pursuing, the loneliness of wanting and desperation of waiting. How can I show how the spaces of health between sickness were filled, the rising shadow of worry and helplessness, the white noise aggregate of fatigue and pain. How can I tell you how the blurring of hope, the wishful sound of distant engines, jet planes and wind in leaves, all faded in and out with the lazy pulses of our first clear calm night.

Ever since we… ever since we… you know. Ever since it became possible to hope, to feel, to touch. Ever since it became possible to think of places where friends and those close can join us to stand or sit or play. It’s now impossible to hide from potential, easier to forsee a time when pain and sickness are blasted away by light.

Ever since then I look at the roofs and the chimneys. I look at the rising sun, at reflections in windows, at buildings and rain and roads and the sky. I wait, think of the future, talk with friends or stay reverently silent. I accept the rising tide of your comfort, know that the darkness and exhaustion will end with relief and wait...

What do you think will happen when it's over. Tell me if you can, please... What happens next





in answer to http://moblog.net/view/901098/facing-the-rising-tide

Posted by Dhamaka