We married in June
surrounded by roses and
joy everlasting.
October arrived crimson
called forth by your flying fist.
As leaves fell from trees,
and the cool night air grew chill,
my pride withered, too.
Apologies and remorse
bathed me after each bruising.
January found
me huddled against sudden
violent flurries.
You hated to hit me, but
I could not keep you happy.
Now tender green grass
grows upon my cold, dark grave.
Finally I am free.
In court you beg for mercy
That you did not have for me.
CLA
in loving memory
No, before you ask, I was never battered, however I know womaen who were, and are. My cousin Jo died from domestic violence.
The other day at the store I saw a lady, with a split lip and a black eye. She stood slightly bent, with her shoulders hunched, and met no one's eyes. Pressed tight against her leg was a small thumb sucking child with huge eyes who tried to watch everyone at once. The image lingers in my mind.
Any complaints I have about my life are petty, for I am truly blessed.