Her face is stoic
hard and firm
tiny indent marks of pursed lips
chapped and dry
wide eyes black lined
hair pulled up tightly.
Back against the wall
legs slung criss crossing
she freezes a weary glance
fatigue
we sit side by side
staring ahead of us.
I am given a window into her mind and her heart
as she speaks
with no real attempt at conversation
more the overheard musings, heartaches, and thoughts of a read aloud diary entry.
Trauma's of abuse
molested as a little girl
grieving the losses of many
homeless and lonely
raped and violated
shame in being known
fear in being seen.
She moves through the details, memories, and descriptions of her story
struggling to keep composure in her reality
face quietly wilting
rolling tear drops
lips trembling
giving into the sorrow.
We sit in silence
she heaves a sigh of defeat
two strangers now connected
sitting in a wordless moment.
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