I rise at night,
wander empty rooms–
the cats remain asleep at the foot of the bed,
black fur blending to darkness.

I listen for the voice–
listen in vain
for the voice I know
can shake me,
awaken me
to freedom.

Perhaps tomorrow night
I will rise again
and walk these lightless rooms
and listen
and hear the voice…

If nothing else,
I know the verity of solitude,
the frankness of silence.

Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.