Sentient Sorrow

“She won’t come.”

The woman raised her head.

“Who?”

“Grandma,” the child repeated. “She won’t come.”

The woman sighed. “Grandma’s dead, Lottie. It means she can’t come anymore.”

Lottie shook her head, brown curls dancing with insistence. “She can, but she won’t. It’s time to move on. She said.”

The silver stripe in the woman’s hair blinked in the light as her head tilted. “When did she say that?” she asked carefully.

“Last night.”

The woman’s eyes filled. “In the den! I thought I was sleeping!”

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Sentient in 86 words

 

 

In The Vivid Light I See

photo-by-kristin-manson-on-flickr

Photo: Kristin Manson

And in the vivid light

I see

People divided

Anger, glee.

As in the storms of

Right or wrong

The spaces in between

Are shorn.

Confusion swirls

Known facts to eddies.

Certitude dyes

Friends into enemies.

I see the children’s eyes

Bewildered

As lessons taught to them

Turn riddles:

“Be kind” but watch the adults bully.

“Be calm” but let grown-ups live cruelly.

“Be patient” yet role models tantrum.

“Don’t fight” as those who said

Not to

Attack, throw barbs, play foul

Speak awful.

Their little foreheads crease

With frowns

Which do they follow:

Said, or done?

And

In their vivid light

Do see

The path glows clear

A road to be.

Past time to wash away

The livid rage

Recall the lessons

Of their age:

Hold space to listen

Pace to learn

Revisit patience

Drop hate

Stop spurn.

 

 

For The Daily Post