Spare Her Not for Her Crying I learned early to cry quiet, to lie quiet in the corner— warned theyd bruise me more if I moved, made to repeat their Bible truths. But behind the bathroom door, I’d swim in silent tears— skin dried thin, fearing I’d be found. So I never made a sound. And after everyone went to bed, I’d lay my head down on the floor— afraid to pray for safety in case I could be heard. So I didn’t pray a word. If we beat you with a rod, you will not die! They said the Bible said. If we rip your elbow from its socket, stomp upon your rib cage, seal hands over your nose and mouth— neither will you die! They implied the Bible said. Yet alone in the corner, a broken child imagined herself already dead. One day, I ran away and stayed out three nights and out three days— hungry, dirty, saved and free. . . until the cops caught up with me. Mom offered the lady tea when she came from the Department of Children and Youth— and apparently, who knew? a pastor’s kid cannot be abused. So for some sort of acceptance I let myself be used, laying down in the dirt of the ground for every dude to choose. By age 13, I’d sneak away at night, running loose through the neighborhood. The attention itself from giving myself out felt good. By 14, I was pregnant. My parents swore they would never raise children not their own. So they gave away their first grandchild— someone came and took him home. I learned to hold myself, to let my husband hold me. I birthed the rest of my family— three sons who hold me now, since at time I find myself still forgetting how. To this day, my folks say they dislike me, their distaste is not a secret. But their acceptance, they can keep it so I can learn some self-respect. I hurt for that childless mother crying quiet on the floor while the family sleeps. And I love her, that little girl shaking in a corner, trying to sleep. If only should could feel my grown-up compassion, but I was just a child then. I’m older, they can’t beat me now I can just walk away. How bad they thought I was at 14 started when they proclaimed me evil at the age of 4. God, save me from taking this hate into myself, help me break the cycle so they won’t hurt me anymore.
Posted on: Mon, 12 Jan 2015 16:58:21 +0000
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