Her Name is Rachel

A little taste of poetry from me....

Her name is Rachel.
Just like me. 
She tries to talk to her mom.
We’re in a loud gym.
The mom says she can't hear her.
Rachel repeats herself a little louder. But not too loud.
It's private and there are lots of people here.
No sooner does she start and the mom turns away from her. 
Rachel puts her feet on her chair, pulling her knees to her chest to hide her crying. 
But, I see it. 
Mom turns to whisper yell at her to put her feet down.
With a little defiance she does as she's told. 
Mom doesn't acknowledge the tears still fresh on her cheeks. 
Again Rachel speaks. Again she is ignored. 
And again she raises her knees. Feet on the chair. 
When mom turns to whisper yell, the feet go down with a bang. 
Rachel tries to speak. Mom makes a face. 
Feet go up. 
More whisper yells. 
Another bang. 
Mom turns to dad to take Rachel out of the room 
The good husband obeys. 
Mom laughs about it to the friend. 
Dad returns with Rachel. 
Rachel hugs her mom and is told to have a seat.
Tears run down Rachel’s cheeks.
She no longer tries to hide them. 
Tapping moms arm to speak. Mom glances and turns away. 
Once. 
Twice. 
Third time she speaks. 
Rachel goes unheard. 
Just like me.

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