In Most Need

She's anxious. She can't sit still. Words are spoken at the speed of light. She's fidgeting. She's raising her voice. Suspicion reigns. Distrust and cynisim prevail. I have no space to finish a thought. I'm on the clock.. I listen. I listen. I listen. I feel frustration, annoyance, anger. I am all twisted inside. Every inch of my body is tense. Her bullets have hit me the second she entered my space. I am unable to dodge them and find an opening through her onslaught. I am keeping my distance, my body facing hers, so as not to lose track of her next maneuver. She's going down and she's taking me with her.

The light gets marginally brighter. I see her. I walk around gently, approaching her small body. I sit down next to her. She is quieter now. I look for the spark of that light, and I hug her. Tears run down her defeated face. She hugs me back. She relaxes. The armor comes off. Anxiety lost for that moment. She leaves. Relieved, lighter, perhaps, connected. Humanity makes its grand re-entry.

It is the dark and the heavy ones who are in most need of love.