Child awake

Why does the child wake,
frightened,
in the long stretched darkness of the evening?

Is it when its stomach grumbles,
empty, yearning?

What does a child know of darkness, light, and the world?
What does a child know of time, and obligations?

Does the child wake,
because it misses the warm heat,
of her mother's touch,
on her body?

Does the child wake,
even if her stomach is full,
even if her diapers are fresh,
even if her blankets are warm?

Maybe a child knows of love,
just as much as you and I.
Perhaps more,
since it has not been forgotten, for long.

Maybe the child wakes,
because the plague,
the loneliness,
has reached her.

Or maybe,
the child wakes,
when truth comes back to her again,
knocking on her door.

A gentle reminder,
of love,
before the time,
of separation