Only I understand darkness –
his secrets and hidden aches,
his hopes and failures.
When he comes,
everyone else walks away,
leaving him conversing
only with himself.
No one is sure
if the moon or the stars
are his eyes;
I alone know
that he does not see
but only feel.
We hear him moan
yet ignore his sorrow
because we think
he betrays us
taking everything from us –
time, love, and even memories.
We curse him when we stumble.
We blame him
when someone loses his life,
unknowing that he
does not bring nightmares
but only dreams.
We close our doors on him firmly,
never to let his angst
in our houses,
only to become our children’s fear.
Only I know darkness
when he touches my body
silently, slowly, at dusk,
telling me he has come
to share his stories.
Only I feel his heartbeat
and hear him whispering
about love and rejection,
taking care not to disturb people
in their dreams.
Only I see his return as dawn,
his dark hands bursting
in the horizon like sun’s rays,
to which I come running
like a childhood friend.
