Toy Lion

Purchased for $1.50 it was able to lie
comfortably next to my son in his isolate.
And when I first saw them together,
they were positioned like a double rainbow,
and I was reminded of the first magic trick
I had learned that gave the
illusion that the bottom arch was longer than the top.

That night, I dreamt that I was a lion
lying next to my cub
licking the grime from his fur
and running my paw through
his baby mane as he nibbled on my chin.
Then I picked him up by the nape of his neck with my teeth
and carried him to my den
and placed him safely next to me.
And while I purred to him the ancient
melody
every lion used for centuries to lull his cub
to sleep,
I was able to see him smile
as he closed his eyes safely within
the dark jungle full of wild noises.

Now, as my body clenches to fight the unexpected cold
from the air conditioner
in the doctor’s consultation room,
the nurse hands me the toy lion.
My son's companion is more lifeless now.
Yet smiles.  And its eyes reminds me
of my son searching for me when I called
to him around the screaming machines
and the doctors shaking their heads
as they tried to pump air into him.

“Call to him," the nurse said, "It will help.”
And as I did, my son opened his eyes:
two opaque knobs of black plastic searched for my voice
as if he was lost in the thick brushes deep in the savannah
and he tried to follow my voice to safety
it but his fresh ears deceived him
and instead he followed an echo that lured him farther into the brighter regions of the pride land where the dry grains of sand were needles in his feet and one by one they wore down to the tender threads until he buckled into a patch of tall grass...
leaving only his eyes...
forever searching...
in silence.