She continues to cry relentlessly. It's not me she's crying for, and my heart bleeds. I wish I could tell her that I have all the answers, but I don't. I wish I did. I'm confused, and I can't help her. She still cries, and I sit on the couch in the other room, listening to her, watching the big clock.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The Big Clock
She cries and it breaks my heart, but I can't help. There is nothing more I can do for her; I've done all I could. I'm exhausted, and so is she, but she can't sleep. She just cries. I sit in the other room, listening. I can't stand to watch her cry. I want to hold her, but she pushes me away. I don't know why she's upset, I don't know what I did wrong. She lays in bed, and she cries. I listen and I watch the big clock, wondering when it's going to end, trying to understand what this all means; why she cries, why I hurt, why we are here. If I had the power to be somewhere else right now, is that a path I would choose? I could never leave her. I choose the pain.
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it is the most difficult experience in the world. she has absolutely no life experience that puts things in context! for her, being left alone to fall asleep is sometimes the harshest reality of life, the most dramatic experience ever! her crying is very very painful..
ReplyDeletepoor sweetness.... :)
Is she a child? A friend? An imaginary love? Aaargh, I must know.
ReplyDeleteYou've built the frustration in my chest, a glimpse of the frustration described in the work. Good writing, but now I need a drink. Hmm.
hehehe...didn't realize this would cause such an emotional reaction, but I'm glad I was able to relay what I was feeling at the time I wrote this. It's going to throw what I was recently saying about interpreting my writing out the window, but this is actually a non-fiction piece (hence no FICTION in the title). She is a child - my child - crying before falling asleep. And it's always heartbreaking and difficult to hear her cry, especially when you're frustrated and tired as hell yourself, and can't wait to get an hour or two of 'me' time! I admit, I didn't want to say in the piece explicitly that it's a child, and therefore, keep a bit of mystery there. I think the piece is stronger that way :)
ReplyDeleteAgreed, much stronger; the mystery drives half of the work by itself. My late grandmother used to feed me whiskey when I cried before bed. Bless her.
ReplyDeleteWe've used that trick before, I must admit, but it's reserved for strictly desperate times. Don't want to make it into a habit; she can do that herself when she gets older! :)
ReplyDelete