Despair

I wish I could for one day see through her eyes, those alluring brown eyes that stop you in your tracks with their sheer determination.  It is not to say that I have not felt her disappointment in me, her resentment toward the world, her desire to avenge all that is broken in her life. I have.  Somehow, without even trying, her emotions manage to seep into the core of my chest and send shivers through every vein in my body, like little soldiers ordered to march through the streets of a small town with news of an impending natural disaster. I would stand there and she could easily be the same height as I am, despite the deficit of two or more feet, because her eyes seem to bore right through me and I cannot imagine it being any different were she actually looking straight across at me.  If she only knew how much my love for her burned my thoughts and prayers at night, how much I wish I could make it all easier for her, perhaps her expression would be different or perhaps she would slide to the floor and melt like ice cream dropped on a sun baked pavement.  Sometimes, in her moments of utter frustration, she would relinquish her anger and in a display of pitiful despair, slump into my arms saying "I don't know how mummy, I just don't know how."  I try to coddle her under the sudden but welcome blanket of calm but inside, I too, am void of answers.