On angry people with loud voices

Come show me, precious love,
your feelings 'cause I ache to know
I'm too involved and too willing
and my heart is yours to fill.

Here I stand, all forgiveness,
all absence of self,
I am here and I'm listening
I'm sorry for not doing so before.

I don't understand anger
and agression as anything but danger
I was raised between blades and fists,
burning pictures and dilated eyes.

I shiver at the thought of violence,
I fear being held against walls
I remember the cold brush of a knife
against my neck and my arms

And I know you never held me
in a violent embrace of rage
not with harm in your heart
or drugs in your system

I can't help but remember
what it's like to sit still
in a house on fire
and pretend I'm not made of cloth.