I walked around in a bit of a moment. My fingers frowned and couldn't find the keys to type. I heard you say that you didn't want to share the story. I heard you not say that you hurt, but I hurt for you. All of the brave and the vulnerable realities swelled up to look at me and they wondered if I knew what to be on about, when a friend lost a friend that he cared about.
We only get a few who understand us and love us the way that we come, packed and broken, with tears at the seams. It's a bittersweet melancholy that takes one of them off to be waiting for us to follow. Can we follow? I'm feeling lost and slow and like I have not learned to sing. That's not right. It was your loss, not mine.
Oh where are the stars when a boy needs walk through the snow at night? I need to go even if only in my mind. Sometimes a hand to hold is a sparkling light, that can reignite and warm a heart. Sometimes a thought in the cold winter night that is crisp when the rest of the world sleeps the sleep of no cares can be caught just right by a heart that is needing a thought. Sometimes it can be delivered like a kiss on the air.
How is it I come to stand at my ice covered window? How does the past, the present, the future so call to me? What words do I have to answer the yearning, the question, the wondering about the wellness of every one that I love?
Left alone thinking on a winter night. I read the story again. I hear you talk through all of the math that really said. Don't look. Don't listen too hard, please. You might see. You might hear.
That's why I'm sorry. That's how I finally understand why dogs howl at the moon.
All of my brave and vulnerable howls at the moon, tonight.
--me strauss Leting me be