The familiar buzzing moves the device across the table
My eyes try to read her like a book in another language
Yet, I fail once again to hear the beautiful ring of her voice
How rare it is to hear voices in a super market, at work, in my own home
I yearn to know what makes her laugh, what makes her cry
Instead, the messages are secrets hidden beyond my reach
Another life hides so deep within the little box
A life that I try so desperately to see, to understand
A blanket draped over our faces to hide behind the words
Words that we don't have the courage to let escape from our lips
It makes us so brave, yet so coward
If the box was left alone, I would know
The knowledge of another life would be mine
I would know her, I could finally read her
I would know what makes her laugh, what makes her cry
I could open a door that has been shut in my face
My dear daughter, her cheeks warm against the pillow
Dreaming of things that will forever be hidden
There it lies. Next to her warm cheek and dreaming mind
The key to the unknown has been placed in my hand
But wait, like dreams, the unknown will always be hidden
Her head will lift from the pillow and she will still be mine
My lips touched her forehead. I didn't need to know
The box was not a home
Moments of precious silence warms my soul
In the moments of the unknown, I find her. I know her.
The unknown creates her laughter
The unknown creates her tears
And I, her mother, create her comfort. Her home.
-Makayla Kowalski
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