Thinking hard enough,
I can see it-
I can smell the old plastic Halloween
costumes,
folded quilts
that had not gifted anyone
warmth in years.
I remember
stomping through and over clutter-
board games used by a family
that I did not recognize anymore.
A photograph printed on a canvas,
bigger than life when you are only thirteen years
old,
that same family
sat smiling.
A small room, no windows,
one door,
meant to hide from the danger of tornadoes,
hurricanes,
inexplicable natural disasters.
It did its job-
I crouched in the corner
behind boxes of knick-knacks.
The “heart of the home,” the realtor had
called it.
But even from here, I could hear
his thunderous voice booming.
Eighteen years, not once did I have to use that room
to hide from the wrath of nature.
But four tan,
cold
walls
proved to protect me from the wrath of you.
-
Author:
Ky (
Offline) - Published: October 3rd, 2016 15:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 50
Offline)
Comments4
WELCOME KYM ~Thanks for your first poem ~ well penned but full of pathos. I remember when I was Young (in the 1990's) hiding from fantasies and also hiding from certain people. I survived those who would hurt and molest me and there are only memories and no lasting damage. But i do know it's much worse for some and especially Girls. Thanks for sharing i hope you found it cathartic ~ Yours BRIAN (UK)
This was very well written and I love the way that you take the reader to the place you are speaking of....and I assume this comes from a personal experience, correct? anyway...I enjoyed it and look forward to more
Awesome write
Very well written...an excellent job here
thank you very much
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