in the mourning light

My family was once a family of shadows, and when my father swallowed his last pill, a light was shown on all of us. Secrets and rivalries were revealed and then forgotten. We were all standing there, squinting our eyes, unsure of ourselves or one another. I knew things in the darkness- factual, undeniable things- that were unmasked as lies in the light. And as the rays bent and shifted through the cracks and crevasses, searching out every niche and hiding place, I saw the beauty of our secrets; I knew I would keep them always.

I have learned to hold my head up and weep without moving or shedding a tear. Somethings must be dealt with quietly or not at all.

And so I continue to deny the effect, but some nights I awake in fear, tears rushing from my eyes like mighty rivers, and I tell myself that it is only a dream, but it isn't.