rem (ember) anywhere but here , a mother croons a lullaby to her child . outside is the calm before the storm that never storms . everywhere else , there is thunder rolling through our dreams , but here counting the silence is a quiet sort of strength . ( to be so lucky as to belong to both water and mother . to father . ) it only rains below the streetlights , but your eyes rapid flicker in the dark between . sometime long after now , you learn a lullaby . a lullaby that tendril grows in the silence , in the dark , in the space between the thunder of our eyelids .
© Jade Riordan