Hush

It's been awhile since I've written here. Good to be back. Have spent 3 plus years as a Forensic Child Interviewer at my county Child Abuse Center. Love what I do...and it's inspired me to write...

Sunday morning, day of rest

I rise before the birds

Mom reminds me to be silent

Don't breathe a single word

I dress for church; skirt and flats

Alone inside my room

I leave my bedroom door ajar

I know he'll be here soon

Pray to Jesus; hold me near

Try to make this stop

Love me and protect me

From my mama's Pop

I know that he does love me

But I don't understand

Why he takes my soul from me

With one touch of his hand

He says that's it's an act of love

But I think that's not right

And when my bedroom door does open

I don't even fight

Papa says that it's our secret

And I should never speak

I want to cry out loudly

As the floor boards start to creak

Papa should have heard me well

I said I'm going to talk

He didn't think I had strength

Or that I could walk the walk

I told my favorite teacher

And Papa's gone at last

I look into the future

For I cannot change my past

Author's Note

I work at a child abuse center and interview victims of child abuse. This is the first work I've done since I started there 3 plus years ago. My heart goes out to victims of child abuse, and this poem is a tribute to those who have endured that wrath.