Family

That was the last house where we were a family.

There were raised voices in the night,

Broken glass bottles and police sirens.

But we were a family, and we were together.

Maids and drivers would walk in when morning came,

Pretending like they didn’t know.

That the man of the house was in jail,

That the lady of the house was in the ER.

They would come in smiling,

Hold my hand and take me to school.

They saw nothing, they knew nothing.

At least that’s what they would say if asked.

But really they were terrified.

They hoped that I had not seen.

That I was safe.

That one day she would leave him.

But that day never came.

It was a shattered reality I remember,

But that family was mine.