Boundaries and Respect

You stood too close; your voice turned hard,
a stranger’s edge, your anger starred.
You spoke of fists like passing rain,
as if a bruise were minor pain.
The keys were mine; you would not yield.
A car, a threat, the truth revealed.
I pushed through panic, not through hate,
to stop a risk before too late.
Do you know how a heart can split
when love and fear in one room sit,
when safety cracks beneath your feet
and home no longer feels complete?
I did not raise you for this sound,
this threat that shook our solid ground.
Love should not make a mother choose
what part of herself she must lose.
You left; the door whispered its last word.
The house went still; my breath concurred.
This woman loves—but when she reflects,
it is only when there is respect.