October 13, 2008
By Amy Kent, Flower Mound, TX

A Chocolate Labrador curls beside a u-haul truck, again.
uncaring, unaware that this occasion is far from rare.
She witnesses her family, their broken, heartrending faces.
Day by day things are different
People stay and people leave,
Boxes come and boxes go.
Her eyes droop.
Again she sleeps a content sleep.
She is unaffected by these events.
Her day would be different tomorrow,
But her face proves she is uncaring, unaware.

A father hides his muffled tears.
Another grief-stricken phone call comes to an end
His heart is breaking, and all he can do is watch
And listen
And try to ignore the consuming loneliness around him.
His once,
Has been,
Past tense, life thrown to boxes
He wished he didn’t care
He wished he could forget
But his face only shows there is nothing he could say.

A mother, glassy eyed; paces the tile floor.
Her wants play out before her.
She has gotten everything she wanted,
But her needs start to slip away.
She needs the house
The family
The security of the years behind her now.
Her heart screams and trembles,
Restless within her
Her needs are more important, her mind reminds her.
But her face doesn’t budge from the unrepentant disguise she wears as a mask.

I am these three people.
I am unaware
And reaped of my comfort
I wear an uncaring mask
I hide my voice, yet I want to be heard.
There is nothing I can say, yet I want to say so much.
I need, yet lack my past.
I am unwillingly broken.

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