It was at night when the street lights trickled through the blinds and fall partially on us that I learned how to feel with only hearing. Hearing her slide in between my brother and I after a long night of belting harsh words to my father. She would hysterically sob so softly trying not to wake my brother. It was in these moments I can hear the soulful tears commit suicide off the edge of her eyes and be caught by the covers of the bed.
I heard yearning for a better environment for her sons. I listened to a woman bearing the last straw while trying to accumulate more. My ears caught the hate that burned in her heart like the devils juice that burned my fathers chest every weekend.
I knew nothing to do but to listen and put my young cheek up against hers that met with tears that agreed with the both of us.
I tasted nothing when I swallowed the knot of fear stuck in my throat. I saw the silhouette the street lights carved out from the dark. I felt damp linen, but I truly did not feel until heard.