I thought that being dead, he would no longer haunt me. Tucked away in the corner of my mind are found over fifty hidden children. Nameless, with faces containing nothing but a mouth, they are dirty, bruised, and broken.
He now simple ashes, they are limping... crawling... carrying one another forward. In groups of two they are crossing into my conscious stream. In the light of my mind's eye I am horrified by what I see. A pupil widens and then is fixed with pain. Unresponsive, I do nothing but squeeze a single blink of disbelief.
A razor sharp child slices as I extend a forced, yet hopeful hand. As drops of blood pool, I become the injured helping the walking wounded and I am filled with doubt. I do not know how I will be able to continue this. How does a sick and injured doctor care for an even more ill and disfigured patient?
One single child reaches my feet and as she does she brushes her dirty hair aside and I see one possibility of an eye behind the matted hair. Behind a squint in the light, I see an unmistakable muddied crystal blue eye.
Hidden from light for many years. But not from his terror. Hidden from love. Hidden from care. As I look into this eye I am freshly exposed to his ravages. I am no longer hidden but face to face, and I am flooded with his unmistakable memories.
They won't stop.
Hanging On No More
19 hours ago