The clear water mixes with the black mascara that is slowly falling off of her face.
The rain outside patters to the pavement, wetting her dress of lace.
Her bare feet skim the cool grass,
Her pale eyelids droop, this rain needs to last.
Although home is full of sharp edges and words of sin,
Nowhere else to go, so she wanders in.
Momma is drinking,
Daddy is gone.
Her sister lay still, clutching the dog.
With whispers as footsteps and feathers as touch,
Slowly but surely she reaches the cross.
A shimmer of brown, to match her eyes,
Water bubbles around it,
Almost like the tears she cries.
With trembling fingers, she touches the brass,
Though it might not heal everything,
It softens the past.
The things that go on in that house
Are the worst of all evils.
Secrets behind sealed lips,
A “hush, sister,” instead of a kiss,
The crimes that have been committed,
The damage that’s been done,
Would never be revealed.
But as long as that cross stands,
Even with all of the pain,
She knew without a doubt in her heart
That she would be-
Okay.