Familiar

The night I fought so hard left

a beautiful day arrived with leftovers

dew drops on rose petals sway in the morning breeze

all is quiet

with no abuses being hurled

no plates are thrown, no glass is smashed, no one screams, no lies being told

The fan makes circles as if nothing’s happened

the chairs seem relieved.

The last one you threw at me lies quietly with the rest

its legs are mangled beyond repair, nails jut out from the pieces

red with rust

tiny shreds of wood mingle with shards of glass

I sweep them into a corner

they settle into the cracked floor tiles and stare right back at me

Glass and wood gleam in the sunbeam

beautiful, broken

and strangely familiar.

Poet Lubna Yusuf