I saw it in her eyes, the storm inside,
carefully concealed behind her smile,
so easily put on from years of putting on.
I heard it in her voice, the deluge held at bay
by words, carefully chosen lest they reveal
the real story, hidden from view but there.
I felt it in her hand as I met it with my own;
cold, almost lifeless it was as if she was
barely holding on to what little she had left.
I saw it across the room in her lowered eyes
that simply stared, their gaze held
by the awfulness of her reality.
She was there but not there, her voice of despair
silenced amidst the incessant chatter
of those she came to meet.
Unseen, unheard, she remained unmoved by the very ones
who might have seen and heard her silent pleas,
not unlike their own and not that long ago.