Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Winter, Thirty-nine

by Rebecca Gaffron

My secret waits, clasped in the folds of darkness. One, one-hundred. My secret waits. A child playing hide and seek in frosty shadows, hoping I will spot her and tuck small, chilled fingers into my warm, grown hand. Two, one-hundred. Assuage the fear she names, don’t leave me alone.

And a fear she will not speak. Three, one-hundred. Is that my secret?

Winter stars twinkle a melodic answer. I catch their joyous strain—the child is luminous, magical. She is beyond measure. For an instant I perceive this truth.

Golden child steals from the shadows, tangled in a web of crystal breath. I long to see her dance. She beckons and the astral melody grows louder. We are luminous, magical. We are beyond measure.

A three-year-old me reaches across decades for a hand creased and lined by thirty-nine years. She will not dance without me. I lift my fingers and step forward, knowing she remains beyond my reach. But the snow crunching under-foot whispers that I’m getting closer

No comments:

Post a Comment