after the slammed doors and the cold silences, even after the angry snatching away, still, i notice.
i notice when the tiny sliver of light appears under the locked door….
i notice when something precious, ripped away, is returned….
i am still thankful. it is a silent thankfulness, knowing as i do all the things lost, all that sits hoarded, behind thick boundary, wrapped in forgetfulness and marked ‘keep away’.
i am still thankful. even knowing the gleam of distant presence is not intended for me, not given with me in mind, still, i am thankful.
i feel the ache of needful things lost… but it is soothed by the sliver of light, there, beneath the door, that still, i watch.