Not every week,
but sometimes one night
a month, the four of us
were in the same room
and there would be
not quite peace,
not even truce,
but a time that felt like slow
release of the family’s held
breath, and I could feel
my heart begin to slow,
not enough to clear my head
but enough to remind me
not to move quickly,
not to speak, not even
to look up and risk
meeting someone’s eyes.