Crushed Against The Stones (Poem)Your children are a precious gift so innocent and pure.
At their birth you have the hope of love, lasting evermore.
You spend your waking days attending to their needs,
Waiting for the next smile and sound of utter glee,
And when you sleep you dream of them and wait until the dawn,
Rising before break of day to greet them in the morn,
Your babies grow and soon become your little girls and boys.
You exchange all their play things for larger, bigger toys.
You’ve learned about mothering and matured along the way,
But your relationship with their daddy isn’t turning out ok.
There are ups and downs and you expect that to be true.
But underlying unhappiness begins to escape through.
Daddy doesn’t seem to be all he is meant to be,
Late nights in the lounge, is he watching the TV?
Your children keep you happy though, just look into their face,
They make you smile, they make you laugh, and they fill you with grace.
But underlying unhappiness cannot be washed away,
It’s growing like a tumour, just waiting for its day.
You are not sure what it is, but this one thing you know,
No matter what happens now, you enjoy watching your children grow.
The pre-teen years are nearly over and the high school years draw near.
Then one child beckons you and whispers in your ear.
“Daddy’s been molesting me it started when I was four
All those times you were asleep, he came through my bedroom door
He put his hands all over me I couldn’t make him stop
I wanted to die many times, to fall down and drop!
He hurt me with his penis mummy, I am so ashamed
I was too scared to tell before because I was to blame
Once, you were in the room mummy, I could see you sleeping
He molested me then and there mummy, I could hear your breathing
My heart screamed out to you mummy, but I did not exist,
My soul began to suffocate and death seemed freedoms bliss.”
The words your child is speaking echo through an empty void,
And darkness falls around you, encumbering you like a shroud.
Someone just stuck a knife into the heart of what was sacred.
Your precious children have been filled with someone else’s hatred.
You need some help, you need to grieve but who can be trusted.
The fear the shame the hurt the blame your heart is torn and busted.
You collect your shattered children and hold them very tight,
You hold them ever so-close, you hold them with all your might.
Flashes of the years gone by ignite before your eyes,
And you see so clearly, all the torment in his lies.
Time has passed you by and your children have grown
But it feels only yesterday you were crushed against the stones
Poem by: Jayne 27th November 2010