Too Close

Too close to the abuse tonight

Too many memories
Flood my heart like a coastal storm at high tide.

Pictures of my sons chest black and blue
His eyes cast downward
As his father cast his own shame into his son.
The biting words, intended to inflict misery.

The way he used my son to make me do what he wanted.
Hurting my son unconscionably if I didn’t follow his sick commands.
I did what he wanted.
He’d brag about it. “See what a little pressure can do?”

How I had to leave my son there,
to forge a way to create a new life for us both.
Scared to death,
but the other choice was to die there, in his locked, sick, dark world.

I wake up, remembering that dark and fearful place.
Remembering what I wished, hoped, had been forgotten.

Remembering now that we made it.
Ten years later, life is bright and beautiful.

5 responses to “Too Close

  1. Revisiting a painful past sometimes induces more teror than the actual abuse. Because we have come out of it, the torture that used to seem a normal part of life before, now seems terribly alien when we have got used to a new ‘normal’ life. Glad to know you don’t have to endure such horrors any longer…

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