Woman in Chains

A Poem by David Cannon

I poem I written from my experience as a child of domestic violence

Woman In Chains

Fists rain down on Isabella,
Brutally awoken from her sleep,
That stench of beer consumes the air,
She claws that face within her reach,

'he Alpha Lion has returned!

Drunkard; tooth and claw,
The bed sheets stained in rueful red,
Her little boy cries at the door,

Isabella ambles awkwardly,
Remains calm, her manners mild,
Takes him up into her arms
Mother shelters frightened child
Lays his tiny head upon a pillow,
as she wipes away her blood,
Sings a lullaby to sooth him,
Still swollen eyes convey her love,

She wanders into the bathroom,
Takes a towel to clean her face,
Every week remains the same,
As tortured eyes stare into space,

Self reflections in the mirror,
A few Aspirin's will dull the pain,
She knows that bruises slowly heal,
But the scars within remain,

She sits forlorn upon the stairway,
With falling tears she bows her head,
As the pristine white bath towel,
Has turned a painful shade of red,

Isabella dreams of freedom,
Yearns to escape the role of wife,
As she stares at her wedding ring,
Until darkness turns to light.