Child in the Closet

~ only a game it was ~

“My Shadow” image by author

The world ceases to exist

the child ceases to exist.

Dread is all.

No eyes. No air.

Mother dead?

Hours turn arctic

night falls to

a sob a whimper

but who searches?

Who’s listening?

O let me not be

the child in the closet

who cries,

“I’m here!’

“I’m here!”

It’s been an interminable

game of hide and seek

hide and hide.

The world ceased to exist

the woman ceased to exist.

Dread was all.

No eyes. No air

and in the night,

interstitial light.

Tracks made by wan whispers

still scurry round and round

in the

closet.

“I’m here! I’m here!”

But who’s listening?

Let the game end, please

of clinquant enchantments.

It is only in being found

by sussurus of breaths

and skin upon skin,

inconsequential perhaps

but touch nevertheless,

that a woman

may come alive.

Does it ever end, the game?

O let me be found..

Farida Haque

i write i paint i dream i weep

and so i am