rem (ember)
anywhere but here ,
a mother croons a lullaby
to her child . outside is
the calm before the storm
that never storms .
everywhere else , there is thunder
rolling through our dreams ,
but here
counting the silence
is a quiet sort of strength .
( to be so lucky
as to belong to both
water and mother .
to father . )
it only rains
below the streetlights , but
your eyes rapid flicker
in the dark between .
sometime long after now ,
you learn a lullaby . a lullaby
that tendril grows in the silence ,
in the dark , in the space
between the thunder of our
eyelids .
© Jade Riordan