Hurricane

She holds secrets in her heart

Hidden under happy memories of her children

You have to go through hell to find it

But they're there

Sometimes patient, lying in wait

Other times digging, clawing, pounding

Behind the locked and bolted door

Sometimes you will see glimpses of it

Catching a moment of it in her eyes

When she thinks no one is looking

You can see them in the way she walks 

Slowly as if with caution

The way she dresses in neutral colors and with modesty

To blend in

On the outside she appears quite composed

But if you could see deep enough into the darkness of her eyes

You would see there is a hurricane always brewing