The Gathering Storm

Waiting to be hurt

His voice a whiplash looms and cracks
The weathered glass and nerves to wrack
The scent of pain pervades the air,
The children cower in despair.

Their eyes are wide, their bodies still,
A loathsome scene unfolds at will.
They fear the wrath they've come to know,
The rage with no remorse he shows.

The servants fade in night’s embrace,
Like silent crows with a watchful gaze.
Whispering in each other's ears,
Along with the neighbors to sneer.

His wife, she waits, her heart in dread,
She knows too well what lies ahead.
The bruises on her skin still sore,
She braces for the pain once more.

He ends the call, the house grows cold,
Unspoken fears, like reeds take hold.
The walls solemnly keep their guard,
They know the calm will soon be marred.