In the silence, I can hear,
can hear you breathing -
in, and out, and in
again. Seeking oxygen
here in the darkness.
I cannot see your face,
nor do I know who you
are - we strangers on this
globe of earth and fire;
trapped, entangled in the
pain and death and fear
that rains down in cement
chunks and wrangled iron
bones that once were
buildings. Down here
there is no light, only
silence scattered by the
dust motes of a thousand
minutes stretching by
into where we one day will
go. After tonight, I may
never see you again, my
oxygen companion of
these hours past. Perhaps,
one day we might meet
in a park, pass by,
in the sunlight, and
never know that it was I,
I who shared your breathing;
the one night of silence
among the chaos.
© Eleanor Clark
24 July, 2016
