Ashes Ashes All Fall Down

September moves along my days like a stray cat, starved for attention, hungry for forgiveness. Pitiful cries, plaintive pleas. Hear me. Help me. Save me. I cringe and cry but not for all the same reasons.
A friend called me out on my mood – You ok? Yes, I lie. But, only because I can’t even begin to tell you. If I were to be honest I would honestly break down. Break you down. You wouldn’t be able to handle the fragility of my front. This morning the news showed me a kayaker stuck under a bridge, his rescue heroic. It’s not him. Doesn’t matter. Panic still crosses my face. Fear crosses my mind. Every kayaker is him by default. Don’t scare me that way. I send a text. Nebraska responds.
I think about a baby not mine. I think about a room not mine. I think about a life not mine. I think of Ireland not mine and want to say thank you for taking the autumn fall. I dream of mutiny, of rats jumping ship. I dream of drums and heartbeats of silence. I hear dogs bark and children recite melodies. I don’t know what it means to think in black and white but scream in color. “It’s all grey here. It’s all grey to me.” ~ Natalie Merchant.