day 7… napowrimo
It was a push, tumble, roll hitting the curb hard
in the tackle of her silence and misunderstanding
under the summer sun of giggles, hopscotch and dolls
of that beach ball’s skip out of her reach into
the middle of the street.
I scream at her silence, out of breath and sound
to those ears that hear nothing in that blue eyed gaze
of little girl smiles turning in slow motion
to the flail of my arms and open mouth’s beseech
across the street in front of her grandma’s house.
It was coming, full speed at her silent stance
as the ball bounces from her finger tips
in the terror rush of my voice unheard
Rushing out to her in the tackle tumble
to the other side of deaf and breathless.
The car screeches to a stop in a slam of door
A storm of fear spilling out from the black gap
in his face at the crush of us hanging over curb and grass.
Clutching her safe in her resistance to what has no meaning
For silence can do that in innocence.
Tears hit the pavement in the run to grandma
The driver lays his blame in black strips
Slow motion gets me to the other side
Praise holds no relief for my terror.
A new friend will never hear a thing of it
In the gift of Peter Pan we hold hands in the reeling
in the darkness of the theater for the first time.
There is no matter in what is heard here between us
Eyes brighten with the fairy dust of magic seeing.
In the Disney other worldly of seduction’s sparkle.
We are not lost children in the Never Never Land
We are of hopscotch and beach balls, of giggles and curls
Mommies and grandmas, on busy streets in little towns
and sometimes what we hear saves us and sometimes
what lives in silence calls us back to life.