What is the sound of a
lone
heart breaking?
Somewhere,
in the distance
a dog barks.
The dogs have been barking my whole life. Barking even now.
Calling to me.
High-pitched then deep
and low
and dank.
Dank as the pitch dark in my soul.
**
His eyes
always the eyes –
are seared into my memory, imprinted on me always forever.
“Who will save me now?” they say.
I have never had an answer, only the question. Always the question. Their eyes, steeped in worry yet fixed in perpetuity on the bend. Always forever hopeful. Always. To the end.
The end.
The slowly fading light — fading, drifting, fading — until there is nothing anymore forever but the cold, frigid world without hope. No hope.
Only dogs have hope.
Even in my sleep that night I felt his hope, even then.
Even in failure, even then.
I dream of him clawing the earth in the Earth. Crying, barking, calling. Calling to me.
Calling for me.
“Who will save me now?”
“I trusted you.
I loved you. I have always forever loved you.
And now.
Who will save me now?”
I am still dreaming. I will never stop dreaming and he will never stop calling, never stop barking, never stop crying and I will never stop.
I will never stop answering the answers with answers I don’t have.
Who will save
me now?
Who
will save me now?
Who will save
me
now?
**
“Tell me what’s wrong,” they say.
“What are you thinking about?”
“What’s on your mind?” they want to know.
I’ll tell you what is going on with me:
The broken glass. The screaming. The stabbing. The kicking. The women who don’t abuse abusing. The men who don’t get abused bleeding, sobbing, hurting. The broken glasses. The broken dreams. The broken heart.
Hearts don’t break. They crack
and
never stop cracking. I feel it
cracking even now.
In all, the barking.
The licking. The nosing. The squeaking toy.
“Who will save me now?”
The tumor. The too-too-long sleeping. The kid won’t can’t understand. Just let it be.
The hours on the couch. The no-more-jumping. The bleeding. The dying. The tired eyes.
“I have loved you always forever.”
The loss of control.
No, there never was control.
The long drive. The vet in the night.
“Son, we need to talk…”
“…put to sleep…”
“…I want to sleep…”
“Why can’t I sleep?”
“When will it stop hurting?”
“When will my heart stop cracking?”
“Why can’t I play with the other kids?”
“Why can’t I play like the other kids?”
“Who will save me now?”
No answers. Never answers.
Only questions.
The fear.
The worry.
The spinning wheel of thoughts.
The going away to die.
“Who will save me now?”
The wagging tail.
The spinning wheel.
The crushing bones.
The yelp of surprise. “
Who will save me now?”
The dust and the dirt.
The running behind.
“Who will save me now?”
The walking. The crutches.
The staying side by side.
Keeping close when every particle begs to run.
I know.
Oh I know.
And understand.
Even as a child, keeping close.
Never straying.
Never pushing.
Always
falling.
But in my sleep — oh in my sleep, you just watch me! —
I run like the wind.
But not now. Now the falling. Now the failing.
The knee buckles. The foot twists.
And the leash.
And the fall.
He runs. Time to play.
Except this game
this game, it isn’t fun.
Not the falling.
Not the cracking.
Not the bleeding.
The cold nose. The licking my wounds.
The sit. The stay. The good boy.
The answer, the question:
“Who will save me now?”
But now:
Who will save
me
now?
**
They are all different. All of them.
Each one of them is the same. Every one.
This time’ll be different. This time
I’ll make it right.
It won’t be like that again.
Not this time.
It always is like that.
Every single time.
**
And now all the dogs I have are the dogs I have
in my soul.
The ones I carry
they bark at me still
Still they call to me
and there are times, lots of times
I call back.
Late at night
Up
at the stars
unto the Face
of God
when all and everyone and all the things are gone and
not here anymore forever,
I call and sometimes I hear the answer
and sometimes I hear the question
and sometimes the question is the answer:
“Who will save me now?”
Craig McNeely is an author and editor living in New Orleans, Louisiana with his wife and children. His work has appeared in such places as Thuglit, Flash Fiction Offensive, Beat To A Pulp and more. He has two pets, a dog and a cat, with starkly contrasting opinions of his work.
—Art by So-Ghislaine