The way out....

Embellished with gold
as she is,
Streaks in silver glisten
On her tresses,
falling across her face,
As do her unshed tears;
The house of two score years,
sheds its own.
Walls had ears,
but the words pierced
and hurt more,
and thinned them to a grid

Like a marauding monkey
swinging wild on a branch ,
His words fly around and stop
He watches,
His joy in her trauma,
And her limbs cringe and tighten
Withdrawing inwards ,
defiantly stiff.
There are no words
But she has seen the gleam
in the taunting eye...

Lungs packed, a sense of fear,
she even suspects her sleep,
her food.
Sitting at the window, staring
at the palm tree
which has witnessed all.

A barren life,
hers;
Devoid of heart,
fruitless,
his.

A deep breath,
a few more days,
She feels the lump
sometimes at her breast,
sometimes in her throat,
Saying yes
to the radiation
they say she needs;
And she feels
a lightness, of being
her own woman,
confident.
Something
to finally ,
happily,
terminally,
radiate away from him.