I Am The Quiet Wall

The sink groans with dishes, the floor pulls at my feet with crumbs, and the laundry towers higher each day but I do not stop. I cannot stop. My back is a shelf for burdens, my hands ache like rusted hinges, yet I keep moving, because your small body rests against me, and the world is too sharp for you. I hear it outside its claws, its cruel laughter, the endless asking, taking, breaking. So I stand between you and it, my shoulders the wall, my heartbeat the shield. I bury my exhaustion deep so my lullaby won’t tremble. I swallow my scream so your dreams stay soft. I give you quiet, though inside, I am thunder. I am weary earth, still spinning, because you deserve the stars to stay in the sky. And so I cradle you my child, my fragile world not knowing if tomorrow will see me shatter, only knowing today I will not let you fall.