They come in the night,
running down moonbeams,
and I hear them,
laughing,
shadows playing hide and seek
or tag…
maybe jumping rope…
I don’t know.
I run to the window,
I try to see,
But they’re gone again,
around the corner, behind a bush
out of sight from me.
I leave my warm bed,
and open my door to the cold, night wind
but it carries them away,
and now they cry, as do I.
Each night they come,
each night I seek them out,
each night since they hide,
from me, and why not?
I took them to this place,
the playground of the ******,
cold and dark and alone
with no loving hand to tuck them in,
or the warmth of their mother’s arms.
I was God that day, to them.
Old testament , raining fire
taking the first born child…
and the second as well..
and brought Hell to the Earth
on one sunny afternoon.
Again, I hear them
just out of sight,
running, laughing without joy,
pointing at me,
and asking “Why?”
I have no answer to that,
I only know the “Who”,
But they know that.
At the end for me,
I hope to see them again,
this time to hold them close,
and explain the sins of men,
and tuck them into bed, to sleep.