An incident last weekend, along with a disturbing newspaper article about a man appealing his conviction for doing away with his wife provoked this poem, and painting. It's been a work in progress all week. Originally I felt it slightly too dark to post during Easter, a celebration of renewal. However I changed my mind when the Sunday Scribbling inquiry of what scares us seemed to mesh with these pieces.
When the mad wouldn’t go away
I remember the kind of mad
When she pulled my hair
Repeatedly
Because I sassed her
I remember the kind of mad
When she attempted
To whack me
Missed
Hit the cupboards
And broke a blood vessel
I remember the kind of mad
When I was young teen
Smacked across the face
While trying to break it off
With a suitor
I remember the kind of mad
When a speeding ticket
My spouse received in the mail
Was provocation
To choke me
Then put a fist
Through the kitchen wall
I remember the kind of mad
Where a drunk husband
Screamed obscenities
Terrified his six month pregnant wife
Punching and grabbing
her right arm
Fixed on the gear shift
I remember the kind of mad
That comes from nowhere
When a new mother
runs to seek refuge
with a neighbor
She barely knows
Escaping vile hands
Grappling her throat
While her child
Sleeps down the hall
I remember the kind of mad
Where ostensibly quiet woman
Bellows shattering accusations
Escalating into a tirade
On an unsuspecting
Grieving relative
I remember the kind of mad
Where a drunken sibling
Rants untruths
In a populated
Public arena
While others
Observe with pity
I remember the kind of mad
That ends things forever
With a blow to the head
A kick to the stomach
Barrage of harassment
Fear of death in a
Frenetic existence
When the mad
Just wouldn’t
Go away
14 comments:
Powerful, and indeed a mad situation.
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Beautiful poem. I think it is regretful that so many women are victim of abuse. Especially, when you have children involved, it seems even worse...
Absolutely gut wrenching. And real. Scary...
Anger is a VERY scary thing and you've conveyed that so well in this chilling poem
Like they say... bruises fade but memories of violence, anger and pain.. Linger and hurt forever.
Your painting is beautiful Sherrie and I have a feeling it is a tribute to another scary reality That has hit your dear friends... Losing a child.
big hugs to my sensitive, loving soul sister xoxox
I'm so sorry and I'm so glad it is a remembrance now.
wow, very powerful poem.. and great topic to put into awareness.. thank you.
scary indeed!
scaringly powerful!
i think i have goose in my stomach!
http://eternitycallsus.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-scared.html
You have reached the core of the problem...that kind of mad...mad that would seem could drive anyone over the edge. Well done.
b
Goodness me, what a powerful and troubling poem. Happy Easter!!
This is a scary situation. Powerfully told.
as discussed in a writer's workshop
Well done. Powerful piece of a truth that occurs more often than we'd like to imagine.
Phew, this is scary!
I'm so sorry. I truly am.
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