Isolation Rambles

As the darkness shrouds her and the passive sounds of the boiler begin to creak and fade, her mind starts to race. The beat of her heart quickens. Words swirl in the fragments of her mind like dust particles finding their home on a barren bookcase. It is now she feels it; the calling. Again, her pulse quickens. 

Her universe centres.

These are not just words that form on her tongue and cascade through the air, these are life forms which whistle in the very essence of her blood, her core, her fabric of being. 

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Her heart melts; it's core aching to help, to support, to fix. He'd fallen asleep; his cheeks red from the blows of the upholstery. His face crumpled, he withers into the kitchen and stumbles into unfolding the overcooked pink flesh. 

Anger. Irresponsible.

But as the fire settled in her belly, the embers burned, he was as a child. His vulnerability her Achilles' heel. She stands there, staring into a space fighting to save him. The desire to protect, love, cherish this innocence threatens to overwhelm her. She turns. She chooses herself. 

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Despair. 

The child looks at her from afar. Why is she crying? Why are the tears catching in her throat? Why does the salt stain her cheeks? The gulf appears. 

"Why are you here?"

Aggressive words. Sting. Bite. The child watches as she reacts. As she finds a bellow in her voice. As she defends her right. As she weakens herself. Because she saw the child in him too. 

Taking her hand, the child steals her away. Dries her tears and whispers love into her soul. The hushed tones of the world steal over her mind as the lullaby sings her to sleep. The child smiles and leans in; this is where she is safe even though her heart is cleft in two. Using the universe, she begins to stitch the woman back fusing the broken with the broken hearted. Listening to the stars chatter outside, she sighs. Ribbons of life work through her hands as she plaits the woman's core. She sighs. In the morning, the sun will rise and specks of dust will swirl in the catching light. Magic will reopen the doors into the world and the woman will be at peace. Until.... until the child holds her hand one more time.