No one ever thinks it will come to this one thinks
6000 miles from home crying to one’s parents on the phone—
The reassurances the same as they always are but this time something sticks different
The sun broils and nights come quick after six—
They leave with one’s daughter as if they don’t owe one any explanation just get up discreetly one by one and leave one alone at the table at the buffet
Day after day and night after night on the receiving end of violent conversations
Surely there’s some ion of positivity deep in her imbalance but this becomes less and less plausible as she threatens to detain the baby, divorce, bring a war: for what? A few frustrated offhand comments, a misstep into a cultural taboo.
The pastor hears their story, hears a recording of the last fight. Messed up, he calls it, offers some strategies, suggests mediation, and gives one hope in the Lord.
One never thought but one knew, deep down one knew.
THE_BYZANTIUM_DIARIES 