She told them all to “go away!” She said it calmly and clearly.
She articulated feelings they thought buried under history.
She told them all to “shut up” and stop the amateur dramatics.
She’d had enough of their mob rule, dysfunction and histrionics.
She told them all to “go away,” Mum, Dad, Gran, extended family
plus siblings, side by side, poor thing was drowning in their misery.
Her abuser had the gall to touch her arm at Grandpa’s funeral.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he lied then kissed Gran’s next door neighbour.
“Be nice,” hissed Mum, “be good! Don’t make a scene now, the family’s listening.”
Abuser worked the room, shook hands as our heroine stood watching.
The anger that she’d felt for years and those scripts she’d had to follow,
filled up her throat and mouth and mind. She tried but she couldn’t swallow.
Inside she cried like times before, “Mummy! The pain! The agony,”
but Mum, Dad, Gran, assembled clan, ignored her anxiety
so she told them to “go away!” She said it firmly and clearly.
She articulated feelings they claimed were ancient history.
She told them all to “shut up” and cease their amateur dramatics:
two fingers to mobocracy, dysfunction and histrionics.
She told them all to “go away” but expressed herself non-verbally.
She left that wake without a sound, kept walking and never looked back.
her pain lets the
Elaine Cusack © 2020