Alone

He cared for me.

After the noise, the thunder from the clear sky, the shrieks of my family, the smell of the blood, the fear and the cage and the darkness, he cared for me.


He gave me food.  He gave me a place to be safe.  He took the place of my family.

I gave him more eyes, nimbler hands, sharper ears, and he took these as his due.

Then came the gold, and the darkness and the cold that slept in my bones even in the light of day.

Finally, though, finally the cold has passed . . .but he does not move.

I cry to him, yet he does not heed my voice.

I see the gold again, the gold he has always commanded me to bring him.

Even as I touch it, the cold again claims my body, the darkness eating at my being.

I bring it to him.

I place it in his hand, as I have always done.

And still he does not move, does not praise me and pat my head, say, "Thank you, Jack."

I realize that I am alone . . .alone and cold but not cold . . .

And I cry.