The morning shakes,

The bed rumbles with what feels like earthquakes,

I can hear the foundation break through the wall,

Upon the bed, my husband sprawls.

He cannot hear, feel the violence,

From what I can tell, he believes the stable home and room silent,

I sit up in bed, in night,

I trip up my head, in fright.

Maybe my brains tendencies play games,

With joy and pain,

Freedom and chains,

To a broken psyche maimed—

By the terrors of my yesterdays,

And the sorrows of my grays.

My husband wakes, I off-balance,

I sway,

The next words he’ll say,

Must regain my control, his talents—

Include the marring of my scattered mind,

With hands heavy, and words kind,

“Everything’ll be fine”,

I stare and smile,

His brashness dispels the night’s wiles,

Hours pass,

I lie in his arms, we awake,

Moon’s present, while morning’s late,

He stays awake,

To keep my from the vain actions my mind makes,

He stays awake,


The moon’s fervor no longer lives to appall,

The night befell, befall—

Be the sun’s grace,

A joy no night can berate,

He took, he takes,

The weight from my chest and sorrow from my face,

He is my husband, the best of what God makes,

For it is no longer late,

But early from which the daybreaks—

Through the beige blinds,

And I everything…is fine.


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