Lone Light

By: LC

Gravel crunches, squeaking, pulling of a lever,

The world has stopped moving and we’re still,

Night’s cloak covers the sun—closed door darkness fills the air, small cracks letting light

through pin holes.

Wait—there’s a light—

I see it

Through cloudy white silk curtains

I see it.

White turns to a faded yet powerful gold glow,

It takes over the window, fills every inch of glass and fights against the night darkness

Are they waiting up?

Did she cook my favorite meal again?

Is he sitting on the couch, rereading today’s newspaper while she bustles about pots and pans,

making excuses to clean until the front door opens?

Traditions, wet kisses, tight hugs, warm meals and peaceful comforts?

Memory lapses back to this time.

Past nightmares are locked away by denial, which cuts like glass into every sensitive inch of

skin unknowingly.

The door opens, breath held, a million universes dying and being reborn in those few

seconds.

I’m greeted by more dark sky and there is emptiness.

One lone lamp stands its post proudly, fighting against all that closes in to permanently

smother its light out.

A timer—it is subject to the control of a timer. That decides when it is on or off. Filling its

purpose or not existing.

And they are not here. This I already knew

but that light looked so hopeful.

Yet maybe they are still waiting—in the black shadows and the glint of honey light—existing

in that boundary in which both worlds intercede.

We’re looking and we can’t see but all we need is to believe.