Standing Between Silence

I stand between them

A wall made of trembling arms,

Not to fight, but to keep breathing

Silence is thunderous in defiance.

His rage echoes off the walls.

My silence swells, a shield and a scream

Visceral and loud—he knows I am here.

Fear is a river in my veins.

Restraint, a prayer whispered…

Because survival is not battle,

But endurance of the hours when hope withers.

Justice arrives—cold and final.

He turns the violence inward; death staking its cold claim on him.

The house is quiet, a grave in its ghastly corners

A week follows, silence swallowing her as well.

Her absence is weightless and suffocating.

I search for meaning, but find only shadows

An ache of unanswered longing in empty rooms.

Trauma stains the soul and I wonder,

Asking the silence: what point, what hope, what of God?

Existence is a wound, unhealed and holy,

A longing that won’t release its grip upon the living or remembered.