This week’s poem addresses difficult subject matter: child abuse.
As a father of two amazing young women, I cannot fathom the depravity or cruelty it takes to hurt a precious child. Physically or emotionally. To hurt any living, loving thing.
It angers me, and I think that anger comes through with the narrator’s final revenge in the last stanza. That wish for some semblance of control, the last wicked laugh, perhaps some sense of liberation or empowerment.
I hope this poem speaks to your heart. If you are in an abusive situation, I pray you find the courage to escape. Or if you know someone being abused, I pray you take action to help them.
Please share your thoughts and feelings in the Comments section below.
-PS Conway ☘ ☘ ☘
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fenceposts mark the boundary
where the cedar grove once grew
now milled and turned
to control the land
to suit your jailor’s purpose
aged bloodstains course like veins
down the woodgrain
so much pain
contained in those loathe newels
each vicious lash a memory preserved
for perverse posterity’s sake
childhood erased in that cedar grove
no beating too great
blood offerings served
to assuage your savage rage
in your cruel kingdom
in that timbered cage
your dying wish denied
no cherished coffin supplied
from the final planks of cedar
instead your bare corpse decays
in an unmarked dirt grave
just outside that fence