The Ninth Day Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

Abdul Rahman sat beneath the weight of night,
While rage turned love's safe haven into fright.
A blow was struck; then silence filled the room—
No one could see the shadow of his doom.

He bore the pain and prayed it would depart,
While hidden wounds grew darker in his heart.
A headache came, then weakness, then despair;
Yet pride kept him from seeking healing there.

By day nine, the house had lost its breath;
The wound he hid had ripened into death.
She came back home to mend what rage had torn,
But found an empty room where love had mourned.

One moment's fury carved a lasting scar;
One life was lost beneath the same roof's star.
No apology can wake the silent dead;
Some tears fall late for words left unsaid.