Today is International Day of Peace (21 September)
Sometimes we think of a far away war when we think of peace but in some everyday homes, in our everyday streets, in the house next door there is no peace.
The Everyday Terrace
Peace, perfect peace
He sings the hymn
Into the darkness,
Into the silence in his head.
The heavy footsteps stop, then retreat
Passed the broken bedroom door,
The splinters of wood,
The hangnail hinges,
The angry hole in the plasterboard,
At the top of the stairs,
That’s been there for weeks,
Months, a year?
He should know
But he can’t remember
Can’t?
Won’t?
Peace, perfect peace
There’s a footprint on the sitting room door,
Oxford, leather,
More toe than heel,
Set against the painted wood,
Black and furious
And broken glass where the door swung
Hitting a vase.
He can hear it crunch,
Grind,
On the wooden floor
As the footsteps stop
He braces himself
Peace, perfect peace
Keys are gathered
And the steps advance towards the kitchen.
There’s a muffled sound
Not the sting of a slap
A kick?
A kick.
The back door opens on a rasp
And the footsteps fade
To the sound of quiet sobbing and bruises
A mother’s hopelessness
But he can’t move
Can’t.
Peace, perfect peace
A car engine idles then moves off at speed,
Back to the office,
Leaving heated rubber
Outside the everyday terrace
With the red front door
And the broken boy in the wardrobe.
Copyright ©RMC September 2018
Image: Photo by Craig Whitehead on Unsplash
Mistyroads 