HER SOLITUDE

HER SOLITUDE

The flannel blanket was her armour.

 
“It shielded me through nights I needed you
to protect me from the onslaught of day
when I had to rise to know if our children
were all home in bed. Where are they? 

“Did they perhaps fall from some cliff

and you were not there to catch them,

nor were they there to fall into your arms?

Where were you? Where have they gone? 

“Even the sunrise scares me.

“I beg for sunsets now and nights to hide me
from the rush of day when I ache to see them
home and you beside me asking how I

made it through my day.  But where are they?

When will you come to take me home?”

The blanket has shrunk and, threadbare,
it could no longer keep the intruding light away.

---Albert B. Casuga

01-11-12