Divorce

I remember

sitting alone

in a room

not my own

listening

to the song

Ben

on my child-friendly

record player

and weeping

big tears,

silent tears,

though the door

was closed

and my mother

was in the kitchen

emptying her soul

to her friend –

whose home

we had

invaded –

bitter and sad

scared and worried

small and alone

so overwhelmed

that

I would

leave behind the

cathartic comfort of

the room

the song

my own

5-year old angst

and longing

to pat her shoulders

tenderly

whispering

Don’t cry, Mommy,

we will be fine

I will take care of you

I love you,

while my little girl

heart wept

alone.