A young boy was walking along a path through the woods as the wind started to pick up. The water of Sluice pond, to his right looked inviting, but March in New England is not the time for a swim. The sky gradually grew dark and he could just barely detect the scent of oncoming rain. He looked up and saw the clouds amassing.1
As thunder echoes my mind starts to stir2
He began to hurry his steps for he knew that he was late for supper. His Mom was making his favorite, lasagna. At the thought, his stomach growled and he realized how hungry he really was.3
Of days long ago at childhood’s end4
The rain began to fall and he tried to pick up the pace. The rocky terrain was treacherous at times and he slipped and fell in the mud trying to race home, tearing the knee of his jeans. He heard a distant crash of thunder as he picked himself up and looked at his knee to make sure he had only torn the fabric and not his skin.5
Pounding so loud the angels concur6
The boy reached the porch and a man stood there with a malevolent look in his eye. A man he knew very well and yet not at all. He grabbed the boy’s arm and dragged him into the house by the sodden sleeve of his shirt. A litany of questions was yelled at him, but the boy didn’t think the man wanted the answers since he didn’t give any time to give them.7
Still waiting for my broken soul to mend8
The boy turned to ask about dinner when he was struck. He fell to the floor with tears coming to his eyes.9
Feeling the sting as it scratches my skin10
Another blow hit the boy as he tried to stand. His cries filled the house as he knew he’d done wrong, but he was unaware as to what it was. The boy began to whisper a silent prayer.11
Praying against hope that this will end soon12
Looking at the man, he asked what it was he’d done.13
I know only hurt as I pay for my sin14
“You know what you did,” was all the man said as he dragged the boy through the back door and back outside. The boy looked to the sky. The clouds broke. The rain stopped. The boy’s blood had run into his eyes and coated the world in red.15
Fall to my knees and see a battered moon16
A dog barked from a neighbor’s yard as the boy turned his face to the ground and the tears racked his body.17
Bleeding my heart dry, afraid of his eyes18
The boy called to his mother, to his friends, to anyone that might listen and help.19
Calling out to God or someone to care20
No one answered, no one at all.21
Sweat pouring off me screaming deaf cries22
The boy sat for a long time in the wet grass after the man had returned to the house. His cries steered his thoughts to the guilt he burdened himself with.23
This life I live, I can no longer bear24
The man was always angry, always hurting. The boy knew that it was his fault, he just didn't know how to fix it.25
Every mistake he’s there with my pain26
The boy sat as the rain came again, looking at the color rising to his skin. He cried again and this time, there was no end to them.27
Watching another bruise drive me insane28
The story behind...29
www.storywrite.com/Poem/124915730
Author notes
What happens when I'm inspired by my own work
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
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Profoundly written with heart
I SEE NOW. The thoughts are in the present, while the story is in the past. A profound piece my friend. Excellently written. Wonderfully told. Sadly true. It speaks to me. VERY HONEST WORK. Brought the feelings of the boy to light... how his own guilt made him so confused. Guilt that was a mask for the man's abuse and self-rightousness. READ THE OTHER LINKED HERE!
Edited on May 13, 3:03 p.m. because ''. -
I see Mari beat me here, I can't keep up with her.
A tough piece. I do like the interjections, those short sentences that encapsule the more current emotional state of the speaker. There's a lot of tension that plays out, and of course it's left open ended, so the reader won't get any immediate closure. And that works for this story because I'm sure you want it left that way...because I'm sure there wasn't a quick fix.
He was a lousy bastard, just my little opinion.
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This was written quite some time ago... shortly after the poem. I cannot agree with you more that no child should go through this, but in my case, I wouldn't be who I am without this part of my past... Thank you again Mari for the kind words and the encouragement, you ROCK!!!
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No child should be exposed at such anger, that isn't only a physical but a mental torture as well.
The scars left by that kind of pain take long time to disapear.
One thing is for sure, if you survive that torment with at least some sanity, then I think you can make it. To forget is quite impossible, but little by little you may find peace of mind. Painful experiences torn the soul, but if you reach for help and find understanding and love, you may find a way to have your soul healed as well.
This story is heartbreaking, and to think that so many children go through the same fate is immensely sad.
Just as another good friend of mine, I admire your courage and your will to fight those ghosts of the past.
Never to forget that the punisher is the wrong one, is a half way to see life a little bit better.
I wish you all the best always,
Mari
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