Author: Mark Spencer
I could tell there was something wrong,
She didn’t act the same.
The child began avoiding him,
And I could sense her shame.
The spirit of a child is filled
With absolute wonder.
Until reality invades,
And tears it asunder.
Most often, time is all it takes
To fill our hearts with doubt.
It reaches deep into the soul
And rips the wonder out.
But rarely in a child so young,
Is there such discontent.
It’s only when they’ve been abused,
Life scars to this extent.
I heard screams through my neighbor’s wall,
When he came home last night.
There was a thud, and then a crash;
It sounded like a fight.
He lived there with his second wife,
Her daughter and her son.
The girl was eight, the boy was twelve,
So I called 911.
Just then I heard a shot ring out,
As something hit the floor.
I quickly grabbed my baseball bat
And then broke down his door!
His wife lay in a pool of blood,
I caught him as he spun,
I swung my bat and hit his wrist,
And knocked away his gun.
The gun slid through the kitchen door,
As I grappled with him.
And in my rage I wanted to
Tear that man limb from limb.
But he wrestled the bat from me,
And I thought I was dead,
Until another shot rang out,
That hit him in the head.
The gun dropped from his stepson’s hand,
The boy began to cry.
His mother was barely breathing,
He was afraid she’d die.
And that’s when the police arrived,
The paramedics too.
They stabilized the children’s mom,
And promised she’d pull through.
They took me in for questioning,
Then later let me go.
The boy would need some therapy,
How much...they didn’t know.
The girl would never trust again,
He robbed her of that.
I wished I could have made him eat
All of that baseball bat.
Four lives were changed that fateful night,
And one came to an end.
The damage done was staggering,
Wounds even time can’t mend.
Let this story be a lesson,
To every battered wife.
A man who beats the ones he loves,
Cares nothing for your life.
But if he violates your child,
And you still let him in.
Whatever crimes that he commits,
Will then become your sin.
“Don’t harm one of these little ones,
Nor let them be defiled.
Throughout God’s kingdom, there are none
More precious than a child.”
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Wess (22.214.171.124) -- Saturday, February 4 2012, 01:30 am|
I hate domestic abuse! I think I would have grabbed my .45 instead of a baseball bat. I hope this is fiction. Great poem either way. I just hope it's not a true story. Although I'm sure it is true for somebody. - Wess
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