Hide and Seek

If you look for me, you won't find me. Like the dim recollection of a constellation or the words your mother whispered outside your locked door, if you want, start looking there. Even now, I always beat you at hide and seek. But you know why: I am smaller than the smile you allow yourself, and slicker than the tears. Let me tell you the truth: I am fearless and strong waiting for you in the cracks. If you're looking for something, try looking there. Over and over, you shout my old names. Don't you know I can't answer? If you are still, however, you might just hear my footsteps echoing in the rain. Months later, you still chase the shadows I left in dark attic corners and the stillness of your bed. I give up, you whisper, and I smile. The sun clings heavy and sweet to your back as little feet thunder across the playground. The sound of familiar laughter floods the air, almost giving me away. Can you hear me now? Don't look for me behind these words. We will meet again, my friend, in the place of no more searching.