Clicky crunches reveal you, the shadow with form that stalks me from a near distance. I don't hear breathing, I don't sense the presence of another person; you are ghostly, yet heavy enough to crush fallen leaves underfoot. I was cautious, I was unnerved, I was reactionary with pistols and porch lights.
Now I'm wisely concerned--what do you want from me? I meld into shadows in response to your surveillance. My chest pumps air in and out in silence. My cigarette smoke trails me to my immobile, tense frame in the chair...listening...seeking to understanding our ligature.
Fear is absent, but you break my circle of safety and silence and I must face the empty, trespassed air around me with alert awareness.
What is your purpose in pursuit of my hapless wanderings? Who are you?
Are you awaiting forgiveness? Recognition? Confirmation? Understanding?
I hear you clearly, I know you are near.
Faith is my protection.
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1 comment:
Indeed sci40995, you are a faithful reader and responder. I'm grateful for you.
I was very apprehensive about the crunching, wondering if it was my mind or something else.
The next night I heard it again. I looked up to see a deer munching in my neighbor's yard. I like to think it was that, instead of encroaching semi-corporal darkness.
Thanks.
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