I went home that day of the funeral
A gray day clouds scudding the angry sky
Grained with sorrow weeping a thousand tears
I felt gutted having to return there
I had left nearly fourteen years before
The run down cottage looking just the same
Burlap flapping by the outside toilet
Not one thing had changed except just me
I opened the back door to the kitchen
Half expected bread and butter on the table
To feed us four hungry kids rain or shine
Always said I would never return but had
Left my long suffering mother alone
To live there abused by that hateful pig
I could never forgive myself for that
Curses followed me out that very door
Was my fault all the siblings had left too
Escaping the ferocity of his ire
Remembering only Ma's ingrained face
Tears hidden in her eyes leaving her there
Few at her funeral to say goodbye
None saw the tears running down my face
The holiness of the church comforting
Plus the fact he would never leave jail
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It's difficult to revisit our past, as this poem so forcefully declares. I'm glad "he would never leave jail." Maybe the lifelong incarceration will give some measure of peace to those who suffered so much at his hand.
ReplyDeleteWhat a sad tale. At least there is positivity in the concluding line.
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Abuse has existed in the lives of many throughout the ages. You have written of the plight that has tormented the thoughts of its victims. So sad.
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