This is from my poetry collection “Light Through Shuttered Window”.
by Diane Tegarden © 2007
Infallible, invincible, an angel of quiet mercy,
that’s who I thought she was.
Hands and arms to hold me,
to smooth my angered brow,
to hush my tears
and cool the fever of deepest pain.
broken on the wheel of my father’s self-hate,
the wheel crushing all those around him.
Who would dare
to question his judgment,
his actions, his words?
I would dare.
While those around me
would stare into their empty lap,
agreeing ever so silently
Yet in truth, the silence was their acceptance
of his awful, all encompassing authority,
his ignorance, his guilt.
Since only my voice
was raised against him,
I was the target of his rage.
Red hot and uncontrolled,
his hand would breach
that impossibly wide
gap between us.
He hit me in the face.
I had dared.
His hate, restless, mere violence no outlet,
he would verbally stab
at my every character weakness,
feeling strength in sounding my deepest wounds,
he would stab again and again,
screaming vicious, cruel lies at the tiny child within.
I believed him.
Eventually, after his anger was spent
after his fury had savaged my childish senses,
my protecting angel, would finally appear by my side,