Awkward silence

In a room filled with loved ones

Spiky eyes that dart

Full lips that fail to part

The pall of sadness makes the room a grave,

A convention of deatheaters

The hush isn’t peace.

It is bare misery.

It kills more,

Pierces more

Chokes more

Than the noose around your neck

As you kick the chair underneath you

And begin to shake and tremor

As your jaw sags and your throat gags

As the lights go out,

And your life zones out

As God’s last breath escapes

Until, suddenly

You are jolted back

By the sound of your little sister screaming and crying,

And father’s strong hands lifting you up from beneath