Heartsong (story)

She lays a hand on his back...
To speak to him? Lend him some comfort
For the pain she could not know he was feeling?
She did not know him; nor he her.
Never had their eyes met, even in passing...

But in this moment, once here, bearing an unmistakable air of reality...
In this moment, she knows all she needs to.
Not why she has touched him;
Not even what she will say when the invariable questioning look settles its gaze on her face.
She knows only that she has done the right thing.

And then a strange thing happens...

He breathes a long sigh of relief.
This man, who knows nothing of who has touched him;
Who has no way of knowing the intent of the hand on his back.
He lets out years of tension in that single sigh.
He turns and stares into the eyes of the woman who has freed him.
He smiles and all the hows and whys of it all
Disappear.

They embrace, knowing that, in the other, they have found...
Not what they had been searching for, but...
But....
They know that they have found
Their heartsong.

Torn cocoon

Between the hours of night and morn;
Cocooned in the comfort and the breathy silence.
Cheek caresses pillow.
A sigh: content;
Perhaps the face expresses.

Roll, run, swim, stretch
In the sheets.
Delicious peace;
Tearful happiness.

Torn apart by the mechanical cry.
The repetitive, jarring, unwelcome, mechanical cry:

AWAKE! AWAKE! AWAKE!

Disoriented and seeking solace in the dream

That is no more.

---

Man, I hate waking up.