My otherworldly boy. He is a ghost. Sees the unseen, dances to music unheard, creates worlds in his mind which I cannot fathom.
He is me, and yet he is snatched away from me. I know the culprit and I refuse to make peace. But the pain of this turmoil blankets with a sluggish goo. I wallow in it unable to free my fragile wings to escape.
1 comment:
Jeannette,
This is so haunting. The photo, the words--the emotion is so engaging. In one moment I'm so sorry for you--then the next--I think that you have experienced life like no other. You enjoy and savor the smallest miracles.
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