Sometimes the world hands you moments.
Quiet moments,
Like lonely late night bus rides,
Where everyone is drooping in their seats
After long days at work.
Like hospital waiting rooms,
Where people are too tense,
Mouths clenched shut,
Only opening their mouths to whisper
Words of prayer.
Like early Sunday mornings,
When family is sleeping in,
And you lie alone
With your thoughts
Your body still too heavy to get out of bed
Like trying to run through water.
These small moments,
These little gifts can be wonderful,
Until the loud silence
Leads your mind to dark places
Filled with the wild hushed voices
You've always tried so hard
to keep untouched and noiseless,
Like you do late buses
Or waiting rooms
Or being awake early Sunday mornings.
But your thoughts drift towards them
And reach through the gaps,
Pulling and tugging at the monsters
And creatures you've tried so hard
To stuff away in the little boxes
In the corners of your brain,
Piled with forgotten toys and old socks
All of them covered in a thick layer of dust.
They've clawed out too quickly
For you to stop the probing fingers,
And suddenly you're trying hard
To stop tears from flowing,
But it's like trying to stop water from flowing
Out the gaps between your fingers,
You have no choice but to wait
Until there's no more water left to flow,
Or the bus ride is over
Or the doctor calls you over
Or you can't wait anymore
And you just have to get up
And go somewhere where the voices can
No longer be heard.
