If You're Still

You can hear things
at night, in the park:
Things like toads and frogs,
playing their watery, throated melodies.
Things like crickets chirping,
letting you know there is no one around.
Just you.
The sounds of leaves rustling in the night.
Casting their eerie shadows upon the ground.
Things like the quacking of an irritated duck
or the songs of faintly seen birds navigating the skies.
Distant sounds of the laughter and conversations
of people playing volleyball make it to my ears, though,
growing more unrecognizable
and blending into the ambient noises of the carefree wind.
The river’s current is heard as it picks up pace,
swishing and gushing the murky water
around the trees that call the sandy shoreline home.
And if you really listen, really pay attention,
you can hear the faint scrolling of a pen to paper.
You can just make out the sound of a boy’s soul,
crying out to the noise,
pouring himself into the words he writes.
And he wishes you were here with him.
To hear what he hears, to see what he sees,
to feel what he feels.
But you are headed home or sleeping
or maybe you’re just thinking the same thing.
He wishes you were here,
so he wouldn’t be talking to this audience of one,
so this paper wouldn’t be the only account
of the way he sees the park at night.
And maybe the two of you could make noises others could hear.
You can hear things
at night, in the park-
If you’re still.

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In the park after church, hoping a friend might join me.


park, sadness, alone, lonely, sounds, noises


  • Erika .
    Erika .over 5 years ago

    I like how this brings you into the world within the boy at the moment, when he is writing, wishing someone knew how they felt. I can relate to that. It’s peaceful to read but in a way I get this lonely feeling, a feeling you only get when you’re by yourself. Really profound writing.

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