Rain rapped
and thunder pulsated
going from ear to ear
my mind struggled to keep quiet
it was an endless battle
as I was drawn into
the hurricane
an I really him?
the man I call my father?
She was amused with my gullibility
her knee-length fiery, carrot hair
camouflaged her docile, temperament
youthful, smooth skin
that later in life became
lined like a road map
raw umber eyes
darted icicles
am I really her?
the woman I call my mother?
I relish the idea
of having been a drop of sperm
slumbering in his scrotum
seconds before
being released by his excitement
and connected to
a mono-molecule
They clink and clash
his warm liquids
mixing in a frenzy of passion
that excite and tease,
an encore performance
as he continues to abuse
his private punching bags
I remember waiting anxiously
for Christmas mornings
the Easter bunnies
my birthdays...
joyous occasions,
then,
as the last relative left
the closing of the door
pounded in my mind
as it
silently
clicked
behind me
Night silence always
passed so peacefully
occasionally
when dawn appeared
I got up in a hurry
flopped at the chrome table
saw the whiteness
of the undissolved salt
settled in my milk
like the Dead Sea,
discovered dog excrement
decorating my cold cereal
forced to swallow my breakfast
cynically thrown
in front of me
by my baby-sitting "cousin"
One day I crouched
on the basement stairs
my back firmly pressed
to the pine door
total blackness
focused in my dilated pupils
fear of ghosts and vicious dogs
danced in front of
fresh memories of bizarre requests
spewing from twisted minds
flashing images
of his brown terry-clothed robe
lazily laid open
to expose his erected member
a leather belt
in his left hand
a silver buckle
winked before it greeted me
On my tenth birthday
I was blindfolded
led from room to room
stopped
thrown on a cool-tiled floor
his masculine odour
of rye-tobacco breath
and cheap shaving lotion
reached my nostrils
His masculine hands
overpower my child's body
he guided my right hand
until my
fingertips
touched smooth, fresh skin
jabbing my wrist further
as my
fingers
grazed coarse hair
the wire prickled my palm
Suddenly I felt
the warm liquid
enveloping my fingers
oozing into my palm
slithering down my wrist
and him yelling
"Com' on girl
open up!
and ride those fingers,
com' on boy,
make that bitch cum!"
I tore away the darkness
looked upon my "cousin"
her dress hoisted above her hips
panties to her ankles
forgotten in ecstasy
as tears stream down
my face
Him hovered over
drops of warm, white liquid
flew and formed
strewn puddles
on the cool-tiled floor
Dragged from the washroom
thrown on a bed
pushed on my back
stripped and tied
choked on cat biscuits
forced down my throat
his mocking laughter lingers in my mind
I will corner these thoughts
behind a wooden pine door
in my mind
"He maketh me lie down in green pastures..."
Smoke swirled
wood burned
flames cackled
glass burst
the breaking point
flying like his semen
shattered into diamond pieces
the odour
of singed pinfeathers
would still make me vomit
I shivered
on that cold January afternoon
as the last reminder
of him
was lowered
before my dry-frozen eyes
Thrown on top
of his pine coffin
a shovel of blackness
yellow roses I bought
and my childhood innocence
Now
I am careful
never to light a cigarette
before I fall asleep
I cannot,
but love you both
as I sit in my rented room
where I could sleep at night
look at the lamp posts
luminous through the glass
pain of the city
which I have come to love
surviving from day to day
keeping a distance
in miles and days
within a calls reach
a call, I never receive
I look at my reflection in the mirror
and I see my mother
and I wonder
if I am the result
of the ravished beatings
she painfully endured
I am the miracle of love
susceptible to forgiveness
like an unexpected summer shower
Today I realized
I should have bought red roses.
Gold trophy winner
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
as I write to you and say I'm sorry I didn't see this before. The pain and horror you suffered should never be inflicted upon anyone, let alone a child. It sounds like you have come a long way and I commend you for writing as you did. I pray that with therapy your heart will be able to heal enough to love as you were not given that as a child. The inexplicable horrors of the physical and sexual abuse that you survived are beyond me. I am at a complete loss that any parent could do this to their child. I have not seen any of your works, I will stop by to read up on you and to read some of your writes. This was the winner and it is terrifying that it actually happened. God bless you and give you the strength to overcome all that happened to you in your past. Thank you for sharing this with all of us as I know how hard it must have been to do that. It is a form of healing in its own way as you let these things out. Love and blessings for you dear heart, today and always. You most certainly have my applause here with many 
sssssss!!!!! 
although I do love him, and I try to let go of such resentment as it is unhealthy.
. I never did think that sexual abuse of boys and young men was an urban legend.....however I tried to keep my eyes shut to the sadistic torture that often also seem to accompany it (inhumane) Through my job with adolescents that are considered antisocial<-----that being many times because of abuse in the home, Anyway...a few years ago we had a man come and talk to these youths. His name is Dave Peltzer.....He has written a few books...his first one being "A boy named Dave", followed by " A man named Dave". In those books he recounts his childhood horrors , his physical , sexual , emotional and inhumane abuse ( such as having to eat excrement , being tied to the kitchen stove and treated worse than a family pet). I met Dave , I talked to Dave.....I will always remember the story he has to tell. My subconscious wants to say that he is the only one with such a horrible story
and thank you so much for entering.
