Hold the Flickering Flame

Photo by Duncan Sanchez on Unsplash

A Poem by Ann Val

Dawn reaches out her hand

lights the candle of a new day 

But you crawl into yourself  

a darkness blankets overhead

as you retreat under covers.

I am alone again—

what is it to you? 

I burn this memory like a hand

touching flame, wax dripping

into an embittered heart,

fending for itself out in the cold—

what I mean is,

me and my busted body

caring for our toddler while

recovering from the accident

that nearly took my life.

You. Hiding under those covers

when it should be me.

Do you even care?

I tell myself you do not. 

Until a friend says she too

could not get out of bed

for days when darkness

snuffed her joy.

And so I shift the candle

hold the flickering flame

to your suffering and see that—

all along—it was never you or me,

but us against the dark.

Ann Val is an Arizona native, wife, and mother to three children. Her creative work appears in Ekstasis, Clay Jar Review, Calla Press, among others. Follow her fiction and poetry @annvalwrites or journalism @krisannvaldezwrites