Silent screams echo within, quietly drowning in the depths of unhealed trauma.

The tears have stopped flowing, leaving only scars behind.

Being the presence of others becomes increasingly difficult to bear, leading to a slow withdrawal.

Each step is cautious, fearing the noise of a dry leaf underfoot, that will betray me.

If I move slowly and quietly enough, will they notice? Will they see me? Will they hear me?

The silence is deafening, and the ache in my heart intensifies with the voice inside whispering, “Don’t leave… your children still need you.”

But Lord, how much longer? How much longer before you can release me without resentment?

“You’re so strong,” they say. “You’re so brave,” shout the Christians from the rooftops. “You’re almost there… don’t leave yet.”, "Fly above the storm like an Eagle," the motivational speakers declare,

I close my eyes, cover my ears with my hands, and curl up into a foetal position and still, their voices reach me, shouting,

“Don’t leave… wait upon the Lord and be renewed.”

No… because, I am not  Eagle,

I’m in a hurry to go home, to find rest in His presence.

The perpetual fight or flight mode has had a toll on my body and, they cant see the scars on my heart, because I have perfected the art of wearing a mask.

One nod here, another there, followed by, "mmmhhhm oh yes.", add a fake laugh, to take the grammy home,.

Every so often, I manage to deceive my mind, but still, the trauma prevails.

"When does the nightmare end?" she asks,

Someone, anyone, please tell the truth,

and til then, I’m in a hurry to go home because….

Silent screams… they are always the loudest.