The Cave

I remember when I strayed from the light. We were exploring the cave together. I loved it. The misty haze in the air. The cold damp feeling as we went deeper into the darkness. But I remember the day when I heard that voice - different from yours, and beautiful. I followed it and found it, straying from you. I spent hours talking to the voice. Then the lighting of a match, a candle, and I saw the face. I loved it. There by the glow in the darkness I spent days with the face and the voice. Waking, falling asleep, talking, holding hands…you were watching me the whole time I learned later, called out to me even. To be honest I heard your voice, but most of the time I ignored it. You were there the whole time, waiting, with a painful ache in your heart. You weren’t stupid; you were just…loving, and patient. One day the voice left and I was broken inside. I suddenly realized that I was lost. I knew you were somewhere there in the darkness close to me, but I was so lost. I remember as soon as the face and voice left: I crumpled and fell down on the cold rock, that was wet with water dripping from the ceiling of the cave, or maybe that was my blood, I wasn’t sure in the darkness. I wept until I could no longer. I cried out to you, telling you I was so sorry. I begged you to come find me and help me. You did. I looked up and I saw you turn on your light. You were so close the whole time. Your light illumined the whole cave. I saw the water and blood on the stone floor of the cave and followed it until I saw its source. The blood was coming from you. I got up and walked to you. You embraced me. I whispered in your ear. You whispered in mine…So now I wander through this cold dark cave with you. You’re the one with the light. Sometimes you shine it just in front of me. Sometimes you shine it far ahead. Sometimes you turn out the light…but I know you’re still with me. There in the darkness I know you’re there. I trust you. I hate it when you turn out the light. I have to reach up and see that my head doesn’t hit the hard rock ceiling. I have to reach out and touch you, and make sure you’re there. You feel my touch and after a few steps you turn on the light, turn back and smile at me.
© Sam McConkey, 2007