It is night-time and the child hides
Under the bed with the dust devils.
She holds her hand over her mouth
To keep from making a sound.
Her brother and sister crawl
Under the bed with her as
The darkness covers them
With a thick blanket of fear.
They hear, in the room beside them,
Voices filled with anger and rage.
She prays, “Dear God, just make it go away.”
They are held captive by terror
And fear helpless victimization
By someone stronger than them.
They are reluctant witnesses to abuse.
The shouting stops as the blows continue.
Each hit makes an impact on their bodies
And leaves invisible scars on their souls.
They barely breathe before
Their mother screams with agony
And pleas for help, for them to rescue her.
They hear the sound of her whimpering,
Like a baby crying when hurt.
The child crawls backward on her knees.
Her sister hisses: ” Stop or he will kill you.”
Her hands open the bedroom door.
Her mother rises from the sticky floor.
Blood flows from a cut on her mother’s head.
She pushes her mother out in to the snow.
They walk and knock on the neighbors’ doors.
But no one answers or comes with needed help.
Bloody footprints are left behind in the night..
Such an experience leaves unhealed scars
And tears that last forever in the heart..