What I didn't understand

Michelangelo, Donatello, Rafael, Leonardo

the characters that shaped my scene

to tragedy that shaped a horror in my young eyes

while men in masks invaded our home

The moment seems fleeting now as I reflect

broken time in the midst of my mind

shaping in the recall of my adult psyche

to the point where I only remember certain words

To my left a man beaten with a pistol

pleading that my mom was pregnant

to the man on my right, as my mom was held down

her silently fighting but resilience in her eyes

Standing from my chair I beat on the mans backside

screaming to do something to protect what was mine

only to feel helpless but hopeful

my mother spoke calmly and asked me to sit quietly

Darkness swept this scene from my eyes

and once my sight returned there was a painful vision

Blood upon his face, cut to the print of a checker board

still sits in my heart today and I cringe to the thought

Michelangelo, Donatello, Rafael, and Leonardo

I hold no blame in your names

Just hurt and anguish in a situation I couldn't change

so now sometimes it plays back in my dreams

This situation never comes with more details

only the beginning and the end

Its as though I was saved from the brunt

that I may not be broken in the end

probably why pen and paper became my friend

why my emotions are better written then verbally explained

why my soul seeks peace more than the violence that festers

and from each word written I have always felt better

So with this I let it all go

that my dreams are not haunted any longer

That this tragedy may forever rest with my four friends

Michelangelo, Donatello, Rafael, and Leonardo.