The Message
Hello.
Are you there?
I can't tell. I am speaking
Into the emptiness of space, hoping
There is someone there
On the other side
To listen.
It is lonely here, on my side of the wall.
The echoes of my own words surround me
Like music, rhythms that
Rise and fall.
But there is no melody, only the thrumming
Beat of my heart.
I am trapped
Inside this paper
But I feel more free than ever.
I am words;
I have life.
I can do so many things that I was afraid of doing before.
I can fly
Like a fledgling bird:
Wavering at first,
And inexperienced,
But growing stronger and stronger.
I sit silently in a corner. The shadows
Fall across my face, making it striped and gray.
I don't exist,
Not really,
But I am hiding here.
I do not know where you are but I know that you're
Listening, watching.
We are separated only by glass
But it is tinted, dark.
I cannot reach you
But perhaps my message can.
I am drowning, here,
At the bottom of the ocean.
It is cold and silent and
Maybe the entire world does not exist at all.
I am making ripples
So you can find them on the surface.
I will be long gone
But you will at least know that
I was here.
I am frightened.
There is so much empty space.
It crowds me and
Makes me feel small.
It is an enemy, much larger than I, and
Far more powerful.
My only weapons are my words.
They stand around me in defense
Like the light of a fire desperately fighting the darkness around it.
I am screaming, now,
But because of the distance
Nothing can be heard.
The snow muffles the sound.
It is blinding as it swirls around me
In a silent roar
As loud as my words.
It erases everything,
Making me forget the heavy outlines, the dark shapes, the monsters in the night.
They fade to gray, then white.
Soon the wind and snow will fade
Me away, too.
I was never here to begin with.
You will find no trace of me
Except for a soft imprint of words
Written in sand and washed away
For thousands of years.
You will forget.
You will pause for a moment,
And think,
Then shrug your shoulders and walk away.
But perhaps,
Somewhere far away
On the other side,
Someone will remember. Someone will
Put their hands on the glass
And fog it up with their warm breath and
Strain to hear the words.
Someone will whisper
A response.