She whispers my name... Only I can hear

Monday, January 10, 2011

The Children Are Sleeping

Eight days in paradise
Escape to the country
Enlightened only
To the rhythms of the snow
The clouds
And the wind

Returning, I cannot escape
The shockwave of tragic news
Reverberating throughout the media
It finds me, driving to Schenectady
I turn the radio off
It is too much; too soon

But this morning
The details find me
I cannot hide
Paradise seems now
So very far away
And I am numb

I will however
Like most Americans
Like most citizens of earth
Pick myself up
Continue my journey

I will
Resume my efforts
To return to paradise
As quickly as may be

But not yet

This day for a time
While the children are sleeping
I am going to reflect
On these events
On what they mean
To my country
To the people I love
To me

While the children are sleeping
I will think about these things
About those who die so publicly
At the media's insistence
About the vast majority who do not
Tragedy strikes every day
For some

While the children are sleeping
I am going to take a moment
To pause, reflect, and cherish one last time
Those who will not wake