My folks didn't fight ... out loud
but in silence.
Their anger was inaudible but deafening in the slamming doors --
cupboard and screen.
Dinners where the quiet sizzled as loud as the steak
cooked by Dad at the BBQ, his domain, safety.
But my folks didn't fight ... out loud
so I didn't realize it.
Then when I was old enough to have my own fights
and found they too were not fought out loud,
I realized.
That silence is a battle ground as loud as explosions by your head.
Today I fill silences with awkward chatter and attempted comedy.
Did I do that then too? Was that my role while too young to know
what this silence was?
My folks never fought ... out loud but in the slamming of doors that
I now leave open for fear of the sound of their closing.
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