Letters Never Read

Mom,
I’m still here.
-Loka

Dear Mom,
I’ve stopped asking about you. No one will ever look me in the eyes when I do anyway.
Nothing other than the brief, constantly repeated words, "it was an accident", comes out of their mouths.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think about you. What I can remember of your face is always floating on the back of my eyelids. Whenever I shut them, I feel the soft pads of your hands brushing my head, and your voice comes back in snippets of melody.
-Loka

Dear Mom,
The Stolen Heart trees are still there. Someone told me it is-- was, your favorite place. That’s where I go now, when there are too many furious voices surrounding me, when eyes latch on to my back and trace me, listing my mistakes.
I found one tree, hollow enough inside where I can curl up in soft grass and hide. But I eventually, always have to go back to the cave.
It seems like every move I make is the wrong one. But no one will tell me what the right one is.
Maybe for me, everything is wrong.
-Loka

Dear Mom,
I’ve kept your treasure, all these years. It’s looped an a string, brushing against the fur above my heart when I move. The leaves carved into it are still are a mystery to me, but you were the one who made it, so I guess I’ll never know more.
But I can feel your touch through its surface. It’s warmth has always been there to help me fight the cold.
Sometimes, I think I see a glimpse of your eyes, shining emerald up at me through its surface.
I don’t care about what everyone else says.
I know you’re still out there, somewhere.
Please, come back.
Love, Loka.