Mother. Idol. Love. Prayer. Hope. by Abigail Gordon

Read by Conner Arnold

Once in a dream I
staggered towards you with
painful steps, just shy
of death, and I thought if
I could speak to you once more,
perhaps I could mend
the bond, open doors.
But of course not, I’ve been
selfish, unworthy
of love that isn’t freely given. So
please don’t see me
at my worst, at my lowest low.
I couldn’t bear to see
the horror in your eyes as
my body melted at the eve
of night, joining a mass
of shadows. I felt
my breath draining, and
as I gasped and knelt,
I reached for your hand.
You stared, then lifted
your fingers. Too late.
My last words, you missed it.
No room in your heart to hate
me for leaving. So you cried
and screamed at the gods
for being silent as I died.
But against all odds,
you still live and breathe.
As I drifted into the heavens,
I hoped you no longer seethed
with anger, that my sins
would not drag you down.
Stand up, child.
Listen for the joyful sound
and trek through miles
of the land that is yours
to love, and cherish.
I did not fight in this war
for you to perish.