windows

and as they shouted and fought, she slammed her eyelids shut
locked the windows to her soul just as tight as she could
the sound of their anger still ricocheted off the walls (adults never bothered to stop and think about what words might carry, about who might be listening)
still she stayed in bed, seeing nothing but darkness
as if it helped
as if no rainteardrops could squeeze through the firmly shut window frame
all was dark, but she was not downstairs
she was alone
she had her doll
she had her nightlight
she told herself it would be alright
and the storm raged on