My Wall
I am sitting with my head in my hands;
My eyes are downcast;
Looking at the subtle patterns;
On the old Formica table;
The vinyl chair is torn;
And it cuts into my bare thigh;
But I am not moving;
Nor am I listening;
I have built a sturdy wall;
Between them and me;
I already have absorbed the names;
That she frequently calls me;
For I have heard them all before;
His finger is but inches from my face;
But I jump both inside and out;
When an angry fist pounds the table;
Rattling the dishes;
And the salt and pepper shakers;
I have been sitting here for hours;
It feels like an eternity;
I pray for a beating;
At least then, it would be over;
Then they turn on each other;
And I feel so guilty and ashamed;
They are fighting because of me;
She is cursing, and his words are slurring;
They no longer see me sitting there, shaking;
I wished that I could be invisible;
And I sought perfection as a means of escape;
Because I knew what was going to happen;
If I didn't conform, if I had a difference of opinion;
Or if I dared to rebel in any way;
It is only now, after so many years;
That I finally understand;
What I was too young to know then;
That it never should have been that way;
There are people who genuinely love each other;
Yet, there is still a wall;
That exists between you and me;
There are times when I still need to hide;
But at least now, the wall has some cracks in it.
My eyes are downcast;
Looking at the subtle patterns;
On the old Formica table;
The vinyl chair is torn;
And it cuts into my bare thigh;
But I am not moving;
Nor am I listening;
I have built a sturdy wall;
Between them and me;
I already have absorbed the names;
That she frequently calls me;
For I have heard them all before;
His finger is but inches from my face;
But I jump both inside and out;
When an angry fist pounds the table;
Rattling the dishes;
And the salt and pepper shakers;
I have been sitting here for hours;
It feels like an eternity;
I pray for a beating;
At least then, it would be over;
Then they turn on each other;
And I feel so guilty and ashamed;
They are fighting because of me;
She is cursing, and his words are slurring;
They no longer see me sitting there, shaking;
I wished that I could be invisible;
And I sought perfection as a means of escape;
Because I knew what was going to happen;
If I didn't conform, if I had a difference of opinion;
Or if I dared to rebel in any way;
It is only now, after so many years;
That I finally understand;
What I was too young to know then;
That it never should have been that way;
There are people who genuinely love each other;
Yet, there is still a wall;
That exists between you and me;
There are times when I still need to hide;
But at least now, the wall has some cracks in it.
Published by Lisa R. Strong
I was born and raised in Binghamton NY. I have been writing short stories since I was eight years old, and poetry since I was a teenager. I also write prayers, meditations, and opinion articles. My dre... View profile
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17 Comments
Post a Commentyes, I know, this is exactly how I felt with my ex-husband. I think these people have a heart somewhere but they havn't learned to use it. It's so sad. I'm sorry you went through this.
Your poem touched me. I'm glad the wall is cracking. Parents don't know at the time that they are hurting their children, they are acting out in a vacuum of destruction.
Awesome, truly awesome!!!
Such powerful sentiments. I appreciate the imagery of the kitchen and the fist pounding the table.
Young children are influenced greatly by the behavior of their parents. For most of my life, I believed that this behavior was normal. I am thankful that I never had any children who I could possibly do this to. It is a vicious cycle that is handed down from generation to generation. It doesn't matter if one is rich or poor, educated or illiterate Abuse of any kind stays with a child throughout all of their life, and guides their actions and decisions as adults. The scars never completely heal, they only fade with time, faith, and forgiveness.
A voice of the oppressed in the family.A decent way of registering one's protest when the family-makers clash with each other unmindful of the kids' mental turbulence.Now educated and affluent parents also behave like this and the children are suffering a strong repression of their delicate feelings,their blooming childhood smacked by the arrogance prevalent in the home.Can you suggest any remedy for these children?
You have totally captured the truth of this. . . . . Surely, somewhere there are families who truly express and live love for one another . . . . aren't there?
An amazingly written poem!
Beautifully written! More poems like this need to be written.
Very good. :)