Disclaimer:
I don't know who Power Rangers belongs to these days, only what
channel it plays on. Or are the two one in the same? Either way, they
aren't mine. Too bad.
No More Sorrow
I watched him sleep, his face turned into the crook of his arm. A tear slid down from his closed eye, a testament of the emotions that escaped into his dreams because he refused to feel them in his waking hours. So cold, and so lonely on the outside, but in his dreams I hear laughter. I see blue sky and bright sun. So he does remember. He dreams of happier times, albeit involuntarily. These dreams hurt him. They make his already sore heart ache even more, a pain harsher than any wound received in battle.
His brow furrows as another tear rolls down, and I hear his breath catch—his grief causes him physical discomfort. He stirs unhappily in his sleep, my poor, proud child.
I see a boy with bright blonde hair and a winsome smile, surrounded by the glow that is visible Joy. His presence is so powerful, it is undimmed even by the curtain of death that veils him. A special significance this boy carries. He is often the cause of pain in these dreams.
I look at the damp spot on the bed made of my child's tears, and the glisten upon his lashes. My heart breaks.
I kneel beside his bed and place my hand upon his cheek. These dreams of happiness are his nightmares, and they rob him of a peaceful rest. He wants to forget so that the pain will stop. I catch a tear with my thumb, swearing it will be his last.
Gently, I take his dreams and dim them to blankness. Beneath my touch, his breath slowly quiets and his expression becomes less pinched. The soreness is his heart eases, just a little. Child of sorrow. I smile as I guide his sleep into a darker place, a haven where no memories exist.