12 String Dreams Journal
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2001-09-23 10:00:55 (UTC)

Quite Calm of Morning



The phone slips silently to the floor.


The quite calm of morning gives way to another afternoon.
The southern sun burns deeply, warming but not soothing the
cold questions that burn inside. I'm not searching for
answers or digging for promises. I swore to bury the
feelings and deal only with the facts.

In fact, I did.

In fact, I stood and faced every direction, examined every
obstacle and tried to see everyone's point of view. My eyes
grew tired as my head began to ache. My heart grew cold as
feeling slipped away.



"What should I do?"

"What could I do?"

"What would you do?"

I look oddly at the receiver.

"Hello," I say...

"How is she doing?"

"What is she doing?"

"Is she OK?"

"Hello," I repeat...

I shift my weight from left to right. Still feeling
uncomfortable I repeat the process with the same effect.

"Hello?" I say a final time hoping to create calm out of

It's not that the words spoken fell upon deaf ears or that
the emotions conveyed fell into an empty heart. The spaces
between the things I've seen seem shorter every day. The
words build a bridge across a river I never wanted to cross.

"Take care....."

The words toss and turn on the river's white water
currents. They flow, yet not with the flow intended. They
dip and sway to the natural rhythm of the crashing wakes.
As they come to rest some ways down, the wind dries them to
a point of understanding.

"You to...."