“Molesters do not wear an ugly mask. They wear a shield of trust.” – Patty Rase Hopson
“Child abuse casts a shadow the length of a lifetime.” – Herbert Ward
Apartment # 3
I can’t remember which scent
Offended me most as a child
The heavy damp mustiness
Of grandma’s apartment
Or the sting of her
White Shoulders cologne
I dreaded the darkness
When the deacon came to call
Heavy drapes drawn tight
The focal point in the living room
A Murphy bed
Always poised
Always covered in crisp white paper
The altar
Waiting for the offering
The spring lamb
Not even two years of age
When sacrifices begin
This man of god
Anoints me in his holy water
Telling me
Not to tell
As if I had the words to expose him
Bottom drawer antique mahogany bureau
Easy to reach for one so small
Always containing gifts
If I’d been good But why were there no Pieces of silver?
Grandma returns as the man leaves
He will not look at me
As he puts on his hat
What was the going rate
For an infant girl?
And why did the mother
Insist I keep returning?
Bisous,
Léa
Perfect. Horrible. Perfect poem, horrible happening. You are brave for writing and posting this poem. Props!
As you know, writing it is part of the healing. I know there are so very many more out there who have walked similar paths. Thanks for you kindness and it is good to hear from you again. 🙂
It seems to be like a scab that won’t heal. But your exposing it to the light and sharing your burden will surely help you…and others. Courage! You had it then, you have it now, and you’re passing it forward. Thank you.
Thank you. I have healed rather well. However, I know there are many out there who have not and unfortunately, there are new members to the group every day. I hope that perhaps the words will help someone else.
oh heck…this was like a punch in the stomach…terrible.. glad you found the words to write about it
It just spilled out. After being inside for so long, there was not way to contain it. The great thing is, writing it releases it.
Very wise words, Lea. Very wise indeed. Like tears, the words sometimes come pouring out.
They come pouring out and give a much clearer picture. Thanks!
A very sad story in the poem. Hard for me to understand why someone can abuse a child. Thank you for sharing.
Even sadder when it was your life. Abuse is a learned behaviour. However, that does not excuse it. At an early age, I remember choosing not to treat anyone the way I was treated. Yet it is not all that simple. I went on to do post-graduate degrees in Psychology trying to understand my life, pieces to the puzzles. It did make me effective when I was working in Child Protection. Unfortunately, the system is as dysfunctional as the people it is suppose to be helping.
Thanks for stopping to comment.
Beautifully written – such calm restraint so at odds with what you’re describing, it’s heartbreaking and yet inspirational. Thank you.
Much time and much work have helped with the healing! Thank you for your kind words and for following one of my blogs.
Yes, I can tell – you express it so well and there’s a depth to what is *not* said here which conveys that, I feel.
You are most welcome – thank you again.
Merci, merci!
Oh God, Leah, when will it end? After years of hard work, cleansing, writing, remembering not forgetting, I’ve laid down some. Never all. Love, Rachel
I am not sure we do forget. Yet things come to me that I had hidden from myself. It does seem I get stronger and for me, writing helps. My thoughts are with you.
The apparent collusion of your grandmother makes such a betrayal even more horrifying, as if there were degrees of horror in such a terrible experience. I admire you for the courage it takes to write this
Thank you. However, for me courage had nothing to do with it. Actually, many of those poems just wrote themselves. I merely sit at the keyboard and bleed. So much was deeply buried and it was cathartic to bleed it out. The best that can come of it is that another ‘survivor’ can know that they are not alone and that they are okay. Merci beaucoup mon amie!