The Dream
My son,
on fire.
I ran,
threw a blanket,
pushed him
to the floor.
I soaked
his body
in cold
water,
over
and over
again.
I didn’t
scream.
I didn’t
panic.
I just knew
what I needed
to
do.
The Meaning
Crisis overrides emotion.
No time to feel—only to act.
What Lingers…
What if, in a crisis, emotion is an unaffordable indulgence?
What if real strength moves silently—and without ceremony?
Marginalia
My elderly dad has fallen and is still in recovery.
I don’t think this dream belongs to me—I think it belongs to my mother.
I asked her how she feels,
but she always puts Dad’s needs first.
Now I understand why.
