Storm Home

She brings a storm home,

shaking the foundations,

a looming cloud.

-

I’m trying not to see tomorrow,

and as the eggshell cracks beneath

weary feet,

I know that my chances are slimming.

-

Stifled sobs from behind closed doors

juxtapose the screams birthed moments before.

-

This violence cannot be forgotten,

and harnessing the trembles

has become impossible.

A visual sign, my years of fear

felt.

The body remembers.

-

No apologies

for the pain,

but no gratitude, either,

for the safety when it shows.

-

How do you humanise a hero?

How do you understand a threat?

-

Struggling to answer either question,

I lay my head back into

the

ravenous, shifting waters

giving in a little more

on growing stronger every day.

-

I wake up to

the sound of flames,

the smell of tension,

scabs slowly forming

on my red and white knuckles.