Crisis.

Crisis isn’t supposed to sound like this
It should be noisy
With violins screeching on that tragic soundtrack
And tires skidding across wet pavement
There should be lights
Playing on puddles
Like children in the rain
And there should be constant phone calls
There should be that raspy voice
Coming across the line
Sounding as thought it were
A thousand miles away across the ocean
Or across the dessert
Where I wouldn’t be able to see the face
Behind the sob lurking in your throat
Saying
It was just an accident
I’ll never do it again
I’ll be let off alright
They can’t do anything to me
They will be gracious
They will be kind
And a string of other comforting words
That make my mother stop weeping
In her sweater
And make my father stop frowning
In his coat
Ready to brave to cold to rescue you
So we can all forget this
So we can forget this all
And we can rejoice
Loudly with laughter in our eyes.
No.
Crisis isn’t supposed to sound like this
It’s much too quiet here
I can’t think of way you look when you smile
And I can’t imagine your voice
Saying sister
I love you
I miss you
You’ve been so gracious
You’ve been so kind
So I’m left alone
In this big silent house
Learning in my loneliness
That silence is the sound of crisis.