Sarah’s Voice

By Judith Hughes

Grey, almost dusk.
No echoed footsteps or thumping heart
No easy breathing laying close.
A loud bang.
Shaking weathered cedar tiles,
Stopping a loping bear’s trek,
Shattering a walker’s evening stretch.
No muzzled sound.
A whisper of smoke.
A rifle laying right of foot.
A fear, an angst too hot to touch.
A sun setting.
The golden band, the clear blue sky,
The tear that daddy didn’t cry.
A faded rose who cannot speak…
Loud enough to be heard.