Vigil

Peace.

​

For years,
I thought peace meant
the absence of turmoil.

​

So I became very good
at preventing it.

​

I anticipated.
Fixed.
Forgave.
Accommodated.
Made myself useful.

​

Somewhere along the way,
I confused keeping the peace
with having peace.

​

I was taught to fear
the part of me
capable of saying,

enough.

​

The anger.
The refusal.

​

But she is a guardian.

​

She remembers
every boundary I abandoned,
every truth I swallowed,
every time I made myself smaller.

​

I thought anger meant
I had failed at peace.

​

I had them confused.

​

Anger does not always come
to burn the house down.

​

Sometimes,
she stands at the gate.