This Child

What child is this? Already tears blind the page. Even in utero I was under attack. My mother in a coma from domestic violence. No wonder I was Daddy's favourite. I was as a coral sponge when seven. Absorbing the tension in the air. Mummy showed me the clump of hair Daddy had pulled out the night before. Hidden in the rafters overhead. This child watched siblings fight. It was all we knew, so I hit out too. A refrain we learned well as father said, "Children should be seen and not heard". Voiceless and defenseless were we. This child grew up insecure. Feeling worthless I repeated history. Only this time no bruises seen. Hidden emotional blows leave no mark. A marriage mistake from the start. This child died inside as an adult. But sibling love saved my life. A strong hand reached out to me. Her love and tenderness plain to see. A shared history makes strong bonds. This child now now enters old age. Three daughters raised in abundant love. The chain of violence broken. X husband I have now forgiven. Releasing myself from that awful prison.