Her green eyes close and sleep follows. Her favourite time of day, or rather night.
At night she escapes her diagnosis, her ageing bones and the tang of disinfectant that pervades this ‘home’. At night she prowls the rocky terrain of her mind and inhabits it wholly. She likes to sleep more now. In sleep she is untroubled, unseen. She can follow the lavender scent of home and cuddle her babies once more.
In the waking hours, raised voices ask questions again and again. Yet no-one can answer her own. Where did Jack go? That’s all she wants to know.
I can see he isn’t here, stop telling me that.
The rocks fragment and fall underfoot and she cannot find her way.
She wears a smile often, the only reassurance she knows how to offer. “I’m still here” it cries.
In sleep she is all powerful; elusive like the snow leopard. Such strength and yet their status vulnerable.
The mighty are not only those who roar.
Word Count: 170 words
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Al Forbes.
Photo credit: Copyright WWF
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