Hattie and the Sun

Peter Brown, Hattie in the Yellow Room

“My life is quiet. I have no desire to see people, and I feel as though I am waiting for something new and strange which will burn the unburnt side of my soul.”

Kahlil Gabran and Mary Haskell 

Hattie and the Sun 

She sits 

legs crossed, 

sheets rumpled

seeing 

but not quite seen. 

The edged lines of her

elbows, her jaw, her shoulders,

hunched down.  

Bed made, yet unmade. 

In the yellow room 

plagued by the sun’s liquid light 

looking for a way to break in. 

Hattie hides, 

in the yellow room,

which will soon turn orange, 

then dark

and cold. 

And when she is freezing

Hattie will crawl to the head of the bed

like a soldier that has survived so much, 

and brace for another night

of bitter yearning,

hands held in tight fists. I am right here, and you don’t see me.