Love Patronus
I was four when you
first became sad.
Mom says that’s why you
came to live with us.
The doctors call it depression.
I call it dementors.
They hovered over you as
you struggled through college,
oblivious to their existence,
an evil presence casting
a dark shadow over your personality
like the black cloaks
they wear
Everywhere you went,
dementors followed,
a trail of frost biting
your heels, their breath
a chill in the air,
keeping you in sweaters
on the warmest of days
For an eternity, they lingered,
gradually darkening your mood.
But their attack was sudden,
dementors circling you from the sky above,
their hunger for you ravenous
as a wolf in winter, dragging you down to
the cold concrete where they tried to kiss you,
sucking your happiest memories away,
leaving you numb,
without purpose,
even the most vibrant colors
froze into lifeless grays
If I could,
I would use the time-turner keychain
you gave me from Harry Potter World
and go back to that day
and maybe the words, “Expecto Patronum"
could penetrate the darkness
and protect you from those monsters
But the time-turner was only a keychain
and it broke, and the past
is as permanent
as my love for you,
so there's no going back,
only forward
So instead of
“Expecto Patronum”
we will chant prayers
as we join hands
and surround you as a family,
for I feel as if our prayers create
a powerful force, a love patronus.
And when I close my eyes
I see your Guardian
stalking out into the night,
a Lion shielding His daughter,
His roar sending trembles
to the earth’s dark core
That’s how I imagine prayers—
old magic deeper than dementors, than
depression. But I know you still feel
that cold, despairing grayness—
a wraith haunting your thoughts,
dementors lurking, but, I pray, keeping
their distance, afraid of the roaring
in our prayers.