Circular Window

High above cobblestone streets

angry voices reach me from the front door

father is drunk

mother is fed up 

at the circular window I watch the rain

 

the rain pellets time traveled stones

it unleashes flashes of memory in me

scrapping of chairs on hardwood floors

clatter of crockery on dinner tables

breaking of glassware

 

high above cobblestone streets

worry fills me as certain as thunderclaps

angry voices blend together

sounds of violence reach the circular window

I wish the rain filled gutters would take me

 

in my sacred space so near the roof peak

I press my forehead to the circular window

raindrops I count, ignoring the anger below

wishing for silence

 

high above cobblestone streets

sounds are closer

heart beats quicker

its raining indoors

my face is wet