As a child, I grew up in a domestically violent home.
This was more like a nightmare to me.
She wakes up every morning scheming
her escape.
But what about us, her children?
Who will believe her?
Who will comfort her?
In our small-space home, I could hear
her cry.
The slaps he throws, the kicks he gives her
Shouts came, hits, never ending impossible
fear to deal with.
IT IS HARD TO LOVE!
She would try to cover her bruised face
But her makeup doesn’t quite cover that
pain.
Her smile doesn’t hide that haggard
visage.
I told her it is time she speaks up and she said; don’t talk about it.
She said; It will get better.
She said; it was my fate.
She said it is hard to love and because of us, her children, she can’t escape from it.
But I said to her, this will end today.
Enough of the cries, enough of the bruises, enough of pretending that everything is okay.
It will end today!!
