Creaked Windows


They say eyes are windows to the soul,
A way to judge if a person is broken or whole.
Within these cracked windows exists
The malformed fissures, turns and twists.
A soul damaged from misuse,
From cruel treatment and abuse
An inner luster refused to thrive,
A belligerent hatred kept her alive.
She can't recall any given day,
When fatherly love came her way.
All the times he assaulted and battered,
The child's whimpers had not mattered.
His goal was to break this child's spirit,
her defiance he would not hear of it.
His drinking brought more cruel games,
the woes of his world she took the blames.
He fought his demons, violated the child,
Used, abused and sexually defiled.
Every night begging, crying, kneeling down,
Please don't let me again, be his playground.
Hopelessness born, God was dead,
No miracles to heal virgin blood bled.
Drunk on power and whiskey's glory,
Thus being just another abusive story.
She grew daring to defy him by being strong,
Without his love and a safe place to belong.
Expounding, even with the cracked pane,
She too resilient to shatter from the strain.
When her babies were born each one a boon,
Each one to her hung the glorious moon.
Within her empowerment something awoke,
The cycle of abuse was the thing that broke.
Prayers answered by the divine strength,
To show loving forgiveness at any length.
Swearing her children would know love,
My compassion undefeated by a cruel shove.