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Their War, Your War

Heidi Hutton Rigoli
1 min readDec 9, 2021


Mother and father argue and spit,

As the child lies in bed, in fear.

(There’s a war going on.)

Ears bruised by the rumbling

Of bombs dropping.

Eyes drip as poisonous gas

Fills the room.

A prisoner of war.

She stares at the ceiling,

Hoping to find god there.

Instead, “living is dangerous,

Nowhere is safe”

Becomes her mantra.

(There’s a war going on.)

In kindergarten she learns

To hide quickly under the desk

She learns about lying.

Any moment could come

An explosion of humanity

Shreds of it enfold and

Suffocate her.

(There’s a war going on.)

Unrealized behavior,

Pushing away the love

She longs for.

Creating her own war.

Eyes shut tightly,

Waiting for the war to pass.

It does not.

The smell of argument dampens her nostrils

Stale tobacco, old whiskey sting her nostrils.

Years later, the chaos

Continues in her troubled mind.

All she touches burns her hand.

All she tastes is pain.