They say poetry should be about things you don’t want know one to know.
So here I go.
When I was fourteen, I had to hide.
A walk to the store.
I didn’t know you had to wear fear like clothing.
Drape yourself in a long dark trench coat of shadows
And know that the shadows had your back.
I had listen for the car to pass and wait for the
deafening sound of silence like it was my friend.
Then and only then could I undrape this cloak of fear.
You can be a child and you can be a
victim all in the same instance.
Or you thank those who taught to observe and listen,
To listen with your eyes and ears
And read the sound of death.
Safety comes in the knowing.
voices | Linda J Wolff
This is a true story.
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