Darker than dark, the sky seemed to even swallow sound in its mass. I stood by the lit up HBO add by my bus stop, waiting for the 5:17 bus to come my way, trying to remember why I was getting up this early. It’s a holiday, right? Don’t you rest on holidays? Why was I getting up extra early to go to a church service?
“Tony, you have to try this,” implored Beth. “It’s my favorite church time of the whole year.” Suspending the skepticism built up from previous “Sunrise Services” that I’ve experienced, I accept the invitation.
(In the darkness of our night, ignite the fire that will never be extinguished)
All was dark.
A scream breaks forth, the echoes of nightmares that haunt attempts at sleep. Evils of the past living in nighttime’s memory.
The tests come back, she’s not getting better. It’s months, maybe weeks.
Another day goes by and he still hasn’t left his apartment, the weight of fear like ropes around his lungs, constricting, choking. He’s dying of loneliness, but another series of rejection seems worse than such a death.
“Just keep going,” they say. “Morning is coming. It will get better.”