Friday, April 10, 2009

Sweet Dreams

Cupping my hands
Over my ears, wishing
the screaming would stop
I cling to the wall
hoping to find protection
from unkind words, threats
and accusations

Covers over my head, I fold
into a fetal position
I burrow my 5 year old body closer
to the scratched and worn
bunk bed post, finding safety in the
dark corner next to the wall

Praying the further away I get
from the outburst, the more invisible I will be
It does no good
Her words hit me like her belt strap whipped
across my body
Fear within and without

“….ungrateful kids…..I work so hard….
I don’t ask much……fend for yourselves…
maybe I’ll never come home….I don’t ask much”

Hardly a lullaby to whisk me off to sleep
Only sobs and tremors

Her shrieking ends with the slam of the door
The old Black ’48 Chevy grinds it engine
as she drives off into the night


Then a whisper from the upper bunk
“Ssh,.” my 11 year old brother says
“It’ll be alright. Ma’s just mad ‘cause
We woke her up with our laughing.”

He slides his hand down the wall.
“Here, hold my hand ‘til you fall asleep”
I grab onto it, feeling the small warts
on his rough hands.


Blogger s@bd said...




9:35 PM  
Blogger menopausaloldbag (MOB) said...

Remarkable bit of writing. Truly touching and insightful to your young fear and anguish. I hope it helps getting this out. Hugs X

8:35 AM  
Blogger Carrie Wilson Link said...


Makes me hate your brother a little bit less.

Thank you.

2:35 PM  
Blogger excavator said...

It breaks my heart knowing that the safety he offered here becomes what we already know it will become.

It's so good to read you again.

4:40 PM  
Anonymous Maddy said...

Now I feel so bad after reading that because I have to admit I can relate to the frustrations of dealing with small children - but that's your fault because you write so expressively. Fortunately, although I have those feelings of exasperation I have other outlets. It's horrible to admit to the darker side of ourselves, our limitations and failings, but if ever I needed a reminder of the essential role of a parent, here it is, right here.

On a lighter note, that would make a great working title = 'warts and all.' I expect you already have a far better one tucked up your sleeve.

2:14 PM  
Blogger Nancy said...

Her anger coming from your laughter makes this so sad. Beautiful post Suz.

3:58 PM  
Blogger holly said...

beautiful writing!

4:43 AM  
Blogger Deb Shucka said...

I love this new way you're telling your story. I love you.

8:03 PM  
Blogger Jerri said...

Your writing stops me cold. So powerful. So sad to think that even your laughter set her off.

Only love for you here, Suze. Only love.

8:37 AM  
Blogger kario said...


I'm so glad you had a confidante for a little while. Having someone to laugh with and a hand to hold, warts and all.

I only wish it had been someone who wasn't hurting as much as you were.

Love you.

11:51 AM  
Blogger Lola said...


11:54 AM  
Blogger dgibbs said...

I can always see in my mind the scene you are writing about. So sad that the hand that comforted you was always one to hurt you.


9:31 AM  
Blogger Michelle O'Neil said...

Wow Suzy. You found some humanity in him. Even if for only a second. That took a huge amount of work. You are amazing.

6:23 PM  
Anonymous Jean said...

I just found your blog and am so absorbed in it. Wow, your writing is so amazing! I was born and raised in New Haven too. You have to blog more! I didn't even finish reading everything yet and all I have to say is wow, just wow!

7:44 PM  

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