I am overwhelmed by the unexpressed
emotions of family communications,
the talk of saying nothing more
and thinking of so much less.
I think none feel real;
seen and felt for who they are,
respected for how they live
what they think and do.
There are always whispers in the crowd.
Actions unexplained and seldom openly questioned.
This one is not there or that one had to run;
this one is once a year…
that one can not stay there.
Does every family bleed through their armor
wield words like weapons;
have landmines laced through all attempts
at social interactions?
Forgive you or not…
It is a tap dance on the butt of a wooden stake;
tapping tap-tap- mean mouth ill rapping,
fraction by fraction deeper,
into the heart of it doesn’t matter.
Brightfire Woman © 2009