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June 19, 2013
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(9)
by embe
Rated: 13+ | Poetry | Emotional | #1458559
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.”
© Copyright 2008 embe (UN: embe at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
embe has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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