A HARD LESSON TO LEARN
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She was battered and bruised, when I came home from school
Mom stood in the doorway, eyes black
Swollen and sore, mopping blood from the floor
The result of my father's attack
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When I cried and asked why
My Dad’s reply, "Your mother went crazy again"
I'd seen it before when I walked through the door
Their arguing led to mayhem
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I was but four when I saw the first time
Dad put fist(or worse) to mom's face
She'd bucked him before, she would do it no more
He would keep the bitch in her place
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Mom hid it quite well, makeup covered the swell
And the black and blue marks that ensued
Only a couple good friends knew to what end
Mom's feelings toward dad had accrued
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Once Dad’s attack took a broom to her back
Mom decided she'd had enough
"Touch me again and I'll kill you with my own hands
I won't take any more of your stuff"
~
Dad understood, mom meant to make good
On her threat if he touched her again
He could see in her eyes if there was a reprise
His life could come to an end
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He really never kept his hands to himself, alcohol nor anger put on a shelf
Since everyday Mom would take it, give it, then stand her ground
I cannot forget, but I have one regret
That I never uttered a sound
~
Of protest or rage, for the war they would wage
Left me frightened, as any child would be
I hid from it all, ran to the ditch, or face to the wall
In a closet so I would not see
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The lesson was tense, at my mother's expense
But I learned quite well what would be
I vowed from the start, and I knew in my heart
This would never happen to me!!
~
© Dana Price
