When the power’s out
And the house we call home
Is engulfed in a deep penetrating darkness,
Each of us independent beings
Living under a single roof,
Wander out of our worlds
And gather in the living room
Like moths drawn to a fire.
In those hours of silence,
Conflict hides under the depths of the dark
And the pain from the years
Dance around the candlelight
Celebrating an unknown occasion,
Maybe because they can finally roam free
Without anyone noticing.
And the four of us occupy our sofas,
Sitting at various heights,
Our silhouettes like fluctuating heart rates
Against the yellow walls.
It’s a restricted peace, we know
Bound to the confines of the darkness
And exclusive to its limitlessness.
There, there is no need to escape
And no place to run.
There we are us,
Us, until the lights come back on.