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The trauma of the abused child that was me. |
I write this page to yesterday’s memories where I see him shouting to scare me in the shadow of darkness hiding and waiting, for my Mother to run to the station with me crying in her bruised arms to hide away behind the train that we may be safe, from a drunken father, the devil to beat my Mother for saying – “Please leave my child alone he’s only four years old.” Now there in the train she lay me down to wet my pants for fear he was near. But no, it was a stranger, the Conductor to lock the compartment door, for us to have a little rest in peace and hold our hands to pray – “God almighty in your mercy take the devil husband away.” When I opened my eyes from fear I saw my grandparents on the railway line near their farm, where we went to live in a happy place so safe for Mom and me. Today, I’m much older and blessed to have my Mother stay with me not afraid to open the door- “The Lord answered our prayers.” |