Now in the hallway the bed with the blue blanket lies empty, there’s a freshly washed pink collar draining over the sink and a red bowl has been put away up on the shelf.
The house is so quiet.
I have died.
Your heart is broken.
As I move further from you, and as the hurt begins to dull, please remember this.
Keep courage in your heart, human, for my sake, because we will meet again. Somewhere, on a dusty track, or on a sodden hill above a wretched farmhouse, we will meet again.
You won’t recognise me as one you once knew, at least not until you are brave enough to look into my eyes and then you’ll see that I am there again. There, just as I was when you first found me. There, desperate, clinging to the hope that one day you’ll come for me and take me
home.
Keep courage, don’t ignore me or look away, step towards me and don’t fear.
Marian Staahl