When the Mollen Went Low

You were standing by the window With your hand against the frame I remember how you said it Like it wasn’t quite a name There were people in the hallway There were coats across the stairs Someone laughed too loudly once Then no one else was there You said don’t make me explain it You said everyone should know What it means inside a house When the mollen goes low And I was young enough to ask And old enough to see That every face had heard the word Before it got to me When the mollen went low When the mollen went low You held my sleeve And told me not to go When the mollen went low When the mollen went low I didn’t know the meaning But I knew it was so There were cups left on the table There was milk left in the pan There were shoes beside the back door Like someone changed the plan And the neighbours kept their voices In the careful lower range As if saying it too clearly Would be how the thing remained You said some words are only handles For the weight we cannot show And you closed the kitchen curtain When the mollen went low I have carried stranger language I have learned what adults do They call the wound another thing And teach the thing to you When the mollen went low When the mollen went low You held my sleeve And told me not to go When the mollen went low When the mollen went low I didn’t know the meaning But I knew it was so Was it illness? Was it leaving? Was it something in the wall? Was it someone being punished For not answering the call? Was it weather? Was it money? Was it mercy running thin? Was it only what we called it When the silence settled in? You never gave the word a body You never let the wound be named But every time the room went quiet I could feel it just the same When the mollen went low When the mollen went low You held my sleeve And told me not to go When the mollen went low When the mollen went low I didn’t know the meaning But I knew it was so When the mollen went low When the mollen went low Every year I hear it clearer In the things you wouldn’t show There are words I still don’t translate There are rooms I still don’t know There are days I understand you When the mollen goes low