She

She trusted me to bring her the news which she so longed for. Every night she would pray that I would come to her, offer her some words of comfort, a smile, a look. Some reassurance; even to know that I was there, at that time, that I had managed to find a way to reach her. She could sometimes imagine that she could feel my presence. 1

I remember how she begged me, crying and dropping to her knees, with a huge chasm inside her chest. She would slap herself, hurt herself, bargain with the heavens... all to bring me to her. She promised herself she would come back. She knew I would be watching... somehow, somewhere. She believed in me.2

And I did watch, from across time and space. I remembered me. But I knew more, now. I knew I could not save her... save her from herself. I knew who she had to become, in order to watch herself in the past. I remembered her. I visited her while she was sleeping, I stroked her hair. I remembered who she was, and knew I could not help her. Neither would I want to. 3

I know what she will go through. She has done it before, and will do so again, and forever and all time to come. In time she will come to understand... why I did not call on her. The truth was... I was always there.4