Listen!
Listen! My beloved is knocking, listen! The creaking of the chair as my back yields to its softness and the scratching sound of pen on paper, motor fading in the distance, and my stomach's gurgle. Sounds of settling in. Listen. Their voices are crying to be heard and you have already received the call. Buried bodies, their arms are reaching up, grasping the air for anything solid to grab. Listen. They are crying, calling, and you are deaf from things to do, buried dreams, and impotence. The first step is to listen. Listen. From the safety of your HVAC home and rocking chair, Apple everything, their voices feel very faint but their faces burn your eyes, their eyes staring, windows to the soul, pain thresholds exceeded and still standing staring waiting still. If you don't see them now will you grieve them when they are gone? Listen. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2019