She is awake,
And he is gone.
Only to work,
But nevertheless.
She knows,
It’s only a matter of days.
Even though for months she’s waited,
Her mixed emotions rebel.
I slip to my room and close the door behind me,
The sound of floors thumping, doors slamming,
Words of hatred flying
And mumbled phone calls made
Is all too familiar.
It is the theme song
And sings high above all music in our home.
The mirror on the back of my door catches my eye,
And I am held for a second
By the eyes I see,
Asking, “How can I do this, how can I do this again?”
Though my road has been rough,
And so many false comforts brought pain,
I must’ve done something right,
For even though my tiny hands
Have grown by so much,
My face taken shape,
And my body developed,
I still see
Those same steady brown eyes,
Staring right back at me.
A particularly sharp noise
Causes me to close my eyes,
Grit my teeth just a moment,
As I do my best
To get into my routine,
Dress and carry on,
Silent but nonthreatening,
I stop to say a prayer,
And turn my music on.
It’s a reaction to me,
I just always put on music…
I’m not sure why,
It’s never hidden the sounds,
Masked the shuttering of the walls,
But somehow it helps me
Carry on with the routine,
The only way I know how
To survive such an ordeal.
Today I hit that play button;
Held steady to the volume;
Going back again to prayer,
My eyes closed to their reflection
My lips unmoving.
The music used to serve
As a distraction, I guess,
But today, its purpose more bold,
It’s no longer a blanket,
A sweet melody among a hard beat,
For now it uplifts,
Enhances and embraces
The theme of this home.
Praises to the Lord
Flow from these small speakers,
Soft praises are heard louder in my heart
Than any thunderous rage.
Let the hatred flow from this home,
But it will not force me to routine,
It shall not bring a tear to my eye,
For the cry of God’s love
Is a sound above all.
Today, my soul shall sing a different tune.
Age 15