After the Screaming

After the Screaming

After the screaming there is stillness,

a ringing left in the air.

The kind of quiet that feels earned,

the kind that does not care.

Words scatter like broken glass,

too sharp to gather by hand.

Nothing sounds the way it should,

nothing goes as planned.

I sit among the aftermath,

counting breaths instead of blame.

Shock moves slower than pain,

both answer to their own name.

The body trembles without reason,

muscle memory holding fear.

Even peace feels suspicious,

when silence suddenly appears.

I replay the moment endlessly,

searching for where it turned.

Some lessons arrive through chaos,

not gently learned.

Gradually the world resumes,

traffic hums and lights glow on.

Life does not pause for damage,

it simply moves along.

After the screaming fades away,

something steadier begins.

Survival is not loud or proud,

it quietly lives within.