Comfort

All the down the stair well.

Is this the dreams my mother prayed over my crib. ‘Sleep silent sweet child.
Let not them take from you.’

All down the stair well.

The steps turn and fade and the echoes and the sight of you walking away and crying and the running and the fear and the wrong way, the wrong fucking way.

Is this the hours my mother spent for me to walk.
‘
Rest before you fall again.’

The steps spiral away into the pain I’ve been forced to love.
The steps spiral up into a lie.
Mother coddle me in my weakness that I may know the peace of unwavering comfort.

The top step is a locked door.

The bottom step leaves you, from falling, sore.

Sit here as others March up past purposeless.
Stand,lean, and fall back into the bruising spiral of chaos and unconscious suffering.

Is this the fear in the tears of my mother?

All down the stair well.