Lonesome fear overtakes my soul as my loved ones fall silent. I look at my child and pray that I nor her mother fall silent before she can mature. The sad anticipation of what is inevitable worries my heart. The ability to seek comfort must now reside in memories. It is in these memories I still communicate with all the silent ones.
I sit by the biggest pine on the hill. The one that reaches to heaven as if asking for gods mercy. Here I have no use for grammar or punctuation as I carve my thoughts into its skin. My words from days past scar over like the wounds from my work, forever etched and for all to see. Someday I hope my friends and family can lay their hands upon these words and draw strength on the day when I go silent...... Then listen for me in your memory.