Wednesday 7 November 2012

MEMOIRS OF A BATTERED WOMAN

I wonder his disposition today
Best prepare myself anyway
He is home - the door is slammed
Living the life of the damned
With disgust he looks at me
If only I could be more worthy
The target of his vengeance
His fury acutely intense
If I wouldn't anger him so
By now I ought to know
Feeling the impact of his fist
For a moment I simply didn't exist
Laying their in a world of darkness
His brutal beating continuess...

Early hours of the morn
My body bruised and torn
Ribs still healing from before
Now feel broken and raw
My face disfigured from all the blows
Lips split open - a broken nose
Misty vision behind a swollen eye
My bloodied being to painful to cry
As before he is sweet and sorry
Exposing some form of a split personality
Fear and shame my intimate friend
A life line on which I depend
Of this he has made sure
Ensuring I do not walk out
the door...

A stolen moment I went to church one day
Broken and beat I began to pray
'Father heal me from this shame -
For his anger I take the blame
A preacher sat and spoke to me
About Jesus and a new possibility
Is it true that the fault is not mine
That I'm just a victim of this crime
Way to much to comprehend
With the beatings I contend
Until one day I thought I'd snap
If I didn't break free from this trap
The preacher he is right
For myself I have the right to fight
With renewed hope I walk out the door
Standing my ground living a life 
I  now adore...

Psalm 139:14:  I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
wonderful are your works; my soul
knows it well.

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