I Heard Him

When depression and struggling health plague those we love,
They are never far removed from our thoughts.

My eyes close,
and I am drifting from memory to imagination and back,
drifting among the currents of my unconsciousness.
But my son’s voice pulls me away from my own mind.
He’s yelling and screaming. His voice cracks, but he doesn’t stop.
Words tear roughly out of his throat,
and I hear him.

I see him standing there, just outside my door,
Tears cover his face, and he stands frozen in the rain.
He smiles when he sees me.
And he falls into my arms, ice caking his lips and eyelashes.
All I can feel is the cold from his skin stabbing into me.
Then my eyes open and I’m crying and moaning,
Gasping at the fading chill.

The screen of my phone glows from beside me and my son’s name looks up at me.
3 am, and he needs to talk.
No hesitation. I’m calling him.
And he tells me about feeling lost and hopeless,
Running out into the cold Boston rain and screaming until his throat hurts,
Asking for help, for anything to stop his hurting.

​I don’t understand what’s happened.
From states away, I heard my boy’s cries for help.
Through a dream, or a vision, or something without a name, I heard him.
Even with the world separating us,
A part of our hearts will reach out and find those who can help.