The front door which had survived everything

What I remember is anger billowing under the smoke of a crescent moon
The yawn of its jaw wide and reaching
The fit of its rage, raising veins I didn’t know a body could have
I mask my fear in a cloak of indifference
Walk through each room
Learn my trauma by their real names
Remember a childhood that held me and broke me and held me
How all of it is in the reach of these walls I no longer call home
In my mind, the dinner table still has food I don’t eat
and I’m learning how to hold a fork and wield a knife
to cut into the tension
Or watch the frames on the wall to pass the time
Tell a story with the art, escaping into a world I made
Force a bite to move the plot along
Walk into a memory where the joy is palpable and rest
Find more memories, ignore what tries to taint them
In all of them, I am young enough to know nothing
In all of them, I am too old to stay now.