I watch you sleep in the wee hours
dark hair across your forehead
black lashes fluttering at something I can’t see.
You tell me you’ve been here longer than any of us,
that if this life is ruined, another will come,
and the world needs no one to ruin life.
I watch you sleep in the wee hours
and feel another mother’s devastation,
as if she lives in my body, sees through my eyes:
dark lash, hair, and olive skin,
through bombs and flames and bullets.
I hide you, hold you, say goodbye.
I watch you sleep in the wee hours,
wondering what you’ve seen.
Artwork courtesy of our featured artist Ernest Williamson III, PhD
