Your bones were a home to his hate
Pushing the limit of how much pain one body could hold
Stoic, we didn’t know
Did your bones creak under the weight of his blows?
Did your spirit waver?
You talked to yourself in rushed whispers nobody heard
Did you speak your truth?
Your body didn’t break despite the violence
He had a rigid mind and brittle bones
In his attempts to use force, you proved yourself stronger
You endured decades of untold abuse
Did you know that you didn’t have to suffer alone?
In putting the family first, did you forget that you are the family?
When he died, did you cry?
When his death finally freed you, did you feel safe in your skin?
Did the prison bars of his arms penetrate your mind?
Nearly a century old, you are still alive and well
I won’t ask you to share your trauma
You won’t ask me to share mine
Our bones are strong