Their War, Your War
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.
