Toronto born poet, Oneal Walters, is also author of the book, The Age Begins.

Silence

nightmare; she tosses and pushes, his name she yells

not mine, but I lie beside her thinking, breathing,

alone, awake. Is it my mistake to look at her?

She lies beside me, rocking and yelling his name.

How can I enter into her dream and heal her,

defend her from the past that scars beneath skin?

How can I erase the fear, thick like a sleeping bag

that completely covers her safety and security?

I stare at her weaken-tiny-spirit;

it’s within a slim-grown-body.

I whisper, “you’re safe.” She doesn’t answer,

won’t stop yelling his name. I whisper, “can you hear me?”

Yes. “He can’t hurt you.” No. “I’m here, you’re safe.” Really.

She stops rocking and pushing, she begins to rest.

I blink. She opens her eyes; I look through her pupils at myself

seeing concern frozen on my face, melted away by our silence.

A healing due to time, I watch myself lie down in bed,

my head sinks into the pillow, my eyes close;

sleep wins and silence becomes our freedom.