Violence against Children

TOMORROW MORN

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BEFORE YOU WALK OUT THE DOOR

BEFORE YOU WALK OUT THE DOOR

 On quivering legs,

she reaches the door,

frantic to escape,

the man that snores,

she stretches up,

trying so hard,

for those few inches more,

between her legs,

an aching bleeding sore,

she peeks over the windowsill,

to her picture perfect home,

 next door,

desperate for that familiar,

engine roar,

yearning for the voice,

that will restore her world,

 once more,

until the next time,

her mummy needs to go,

 to the store

Little boy on the street

Little boy on the street

 Little boy on the street,

worried about what to eat,

wondering where to sleep,

mom’s on the piss,

dad’s doing deals,

knows if he goes home,

he’s gonna be beat,

for telling about the drugs,

under the kitchen sink,

decides to turn a trick,

just one to meet his needs,

goes with a creep,

Who wants more than,

he’s prepared to give,

ends up 6 feet deep,

so his mama needs a drink,

and daddy do more deals,

to protect his sister,

from the streets.

“Please daddy don’t hit me again”

 

There she stood,
little face etched in pain,
tiny tears running down her bruised face,

Neck bent back,
looking up,
trying so hard to contain,
all her fear,
inside her small frame,

“What’s my name?,” he roared down,
body shaking with rage,
hand raised just in case,

“Daddy, Daddy,”
she whimpered again and again,
body shivering as she fought hard,
not to look away,
incase it inflamed his rage,

In the corner,
her mother stood,
tears streaming down her face,
wringing her hands,
trying so desperately,
to gather up the courage,
to push her husband away,

The neighbor broke the door down,
seconds too late,
the five year old lay on the floor,
eyes staring into another place,

Her mother over her body wailed,
“oh why, oh why child did you have to say,
‘Please Daddy don’t hit me again’.”

 iy©2010 

Forgive Me

I wrote this after hearing details of a court case in which a father who angry with his son  for not doing what he was told. Tied him up and beat him for a whole day then finally he cut the child with a bushfire across the belly. Only then was the father satisfied and the mother was allowed to approach the child and rush him to the hospital but it was too late.

During this time the mother watched in terror. Fear of her husband overriding all maternal instincts. I as a mother I can only imagine what was going through her mind, body and soul during and afterwards.

I am not an angel.  I work everyday to stop my habit formed by what my culture has brought me up to believe that using the rod to discpline the child is good for the child.  I will keep trying for as long as I live.