Intervention
Slight breeze lifting, warm,
offers no relief from the heat.
Concrete under hands,
against the small of the back,
retains the heat of the day.
Feet don't quite fit
on the narrow ledge.
Turbulent water flows below.
"I don't know anything any more.
I don't know what life means...
...but mine sure doesn't mean much.
If you're there, I need something;
I need a sign, I need...
...I need you to show me a light."
A flash.
Something small alights
on the bridge
of wire framed glasses
and doesn't move,
even as one hand
pulls them out a little
to allow eyes to focus.
"A lightning bug?
Is that a joke?"
A flash.
Memories...
...of long summer nights
and childhood friends,
who'd be shocked right now.
...of parents, who always
spoke of love;
and still do,
on rare visits home.
...of a big old house,
somehow cool
on the hottest days.
...of a huge bedroom
and a cozy bed.
...of a firefly,
on every single one
of every remembered
long-ago summer night,
clinging to the window screen
like some kind of nightlight.
A flash.
"I guess I didn't say
what kind of light,
did I?"
A flash.
"Okay, little guy,
you and I don't belong out here.
Let's get back, off this bridge;
I'm going home."
A flash.
"oh, yeah...
...and thank you
for the light."
Slight breeze lifting, warm,
offers no relief from the heat.
Concrete under hands,
against the small of the back,
retains the heat of the day.
Feet don't quite fit
on the narrow ledge.
Turbulent water flows below.
"I don't know anything any more.
I don't know what life means...
...but mine sure doesn't mean much.
If you're there, I need something;
I need a sign, I need...
...I need you to show me a light."
A flash.
Something small alights
on the bridge
of wire framed glasses
and doesn't move,
even as one hand
pulls them out a little
to allow eyes to focus.
"A lightning bug?
Is that a joke?"
A flash.
Memories...
...of long summer nights
and childhood friends,
who'd be shocked right now.
...of parents, who always
spoke of love;
and still do,
on rare visits home.
...of a big old house,
somehow cool
on the hottest days.
...of a huge bedroom
and a cozy bed.
...of a firefly,
on every single one
of every remembered
long-ago summer night,
clinging to the window screen
like some kind of nightlight.
A flash.
"I guess I didn't say
what kind of light,
did I?"
A flash.
"Okay, little guy,
you and I don't belong out here.
Let's get back, off this bridge;
I'm going home."
A flash.
"oh, yeah...
...and thank you
for the light."
