The Break

by Maddee Schrader, RTF Staff Writer

The silence hangs so heavy, dense
A thick, dark sheet of fog between us two.
A deep part of my soul cries ‘Speak’;
But then my stubborn lips seal as adhered.
I lodge hard in the couch, stare at the rug.
I try to keep my gaze from him, avert my eyes
When the thought comes bright and new.
In old days, when King Herod, Caesar
Lived in palaces of marble, mansions on high cliffs
Stone was separated from its mother lode
By placing lengths of wood in cracks already formed.
Then they would wet the wood; it then expands
To force the stone apart; to separate forever.
In such discomforting quiet, I come to realize
The silence, disagreement is our wood
And we ourselves the cracking stone.
I can not break away; I will not split apart
I will dry up the wood, and try to mend the break.
I reach across the table; I dare outstretch my hand.
I am so wrong, forgive me. I never want to harm.
I never want to shatter, break the love I’ve found in you.