whys and what-ifs
and burning memories
and freezing winds
to keep me company,
my eyes start to feel as heavy
as the boulders the flood
washed away like pebbles.
How
can I
possibly sleep
when I’m so cold?
How
can I
possibly sleep?
How
can I?
How…
NIGHTMARE
First come the tremendous
booms.
My mother, singing to me seconds ago,
is shoving me under the table
so frantically, so desperately,
that I bash my head on the edge
and her fingers leave bruises on my body.
What is happening?
Then more
booms
and Mom is covered in
blood.
Dad is screaming, screaming, screaming,
and there are more
booms
and more
blood.
I squeeze my eyes shut
as I press my cheek to Mom’s knee,
then I force my eyes open
and turn my head, smearing her blood
across my face.
I see his lower half
from under the table:
enormous camouflaged
legs and boots.
I see the tip of his weapon and then him,
slowly, gradually, deliberately
bending over to find me
under the table.
I am frozen,
can’t move,
can’t scream,
can’t breathe,
can’t think anything but
I am going to die.
This time he’ll get to me
before the
blur of brown legs.
Sofía Moreno’s legs.
When she did what she did.
REBUILD
The yipping of coyotes above
startles me awake on this hard rock,
my body filled with tremors,
every nerve shooting pain.
I know I shouldn’t.
I know I’m not supposed to,
but I won’t let him near me.
So I build my wall,
and I lay
my shame
and brick
and anger
and stone
and guilt
and clay
and fear
and rock
and hate.
Layer after layer,
but I know, deep inside,
it’s really all just
Frosted Flakes.
WEAKNESS
I wait for numbness.
I am colder than I’ve ever been,
both inside and out.
The wall won’t hold, Eleanor.
Yes it will.
Rewrite your nightmare.
Don’t make me
think about him.
Rewrite it into something where you
are stronger, braver, more powerful.
But I’m not.
But you are.
ALMOST
I am freezing.
I am almost freezing.
If I were frozen,
I would be numb, peaceful,
asleep, but not dreaming.
In some horrible way,
I wish I were completely frozen
because that wouldn’t hurt
as much as almost,
because I wouldn’t have to feel
him clawing at every tiny gap in my wall
that is almost strong enough
to keep him out.
LIE
Who is the Beast, Eleanor?
The Beast
Only exists in my dreams.
Really, he’s just
Make-believe,
Everything about him
Nonexistent.
The Beast isn’t rational
Or
Real.
NOT REAL
I feel lost, floating
in the ink of the canyon.
I slip in and out of consciousness,
too exhausted to stay awake,
too cold to fully sleep.
I curl my body
into a tight ball,
hug my legs
to my chest,
rub my bare arms,
breathe warmth
into my sore, sanded hands.
I wonder how much my body
temperature
is
dropping,
and I curse myself
for taking off my hoodie.
This night will never end.
Every time I drift, I hear him coming
closer,
closer;
every time I feel my mind slip away
before startling awake again.
Drifting,
waking,
drifting,
waking
all night long.
Shivering,
shuddering,
shaking,
quaking
all night long.
Telling myself
he’s not real,
he’s not real,
he’s not real,
all night long.
But
never
ever
rewriting anything
all night long.
WONDER
And then, something wondrous:
The sky is lighting again.
Relief at seeing the light
fills me up, spills over,
down my cheeks
and onto the cold rock.
I watch the sun turn
the ribbon of sky above me
from speckled black velvet
to deep purple satin
to beautiful pink silk.
I’ve made it through the torturous night.
My wall held.
I kept him away.
STAY
I need to move, to heat my cold body.
Pushing myself up, I peer at the ground,
which still looks damp.
I carefully slide down the rock,
allowing one boot to touch the ground.
It doesn’t sink in nearly as much as last night,
so I put both feet down.
My legs give out, and I stumble,
my knees digging into the soaked silt,
mud smothering and sanding and stinging my sores.
I stand up, dizzy, spinning, leaning
against the outcropping.
I focus on putting one foot in front of the other,
concentrate on taking step after step.
My rubbery legs feel more steady with each movement.
My breathing evens out. My heart slows its slamming.
I stop.
Should I instead walk to the Jeep?
Break a window? Wait for help? Who would come?
Too hot, no water, all supplies swept away.
Walk to the main road?
How far is it? Could I find the way?
Too hot, no water, all supplies swept away.
I look down the canyon in the direction of Dad
making his way back to me right now
I know.
He would never leave without me,
and I won’t leave without him.
COLORS
I find a small puddle in a hollow spot on a rock
and lap up as much water as I can.
Then I look up at the slice of sky
and long to be in the sun again.
The canyon looks different today.