The WORST kind of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE

I attended a church function recently and the topic turned to Domestic Violence as it is on the rise. Several members of our congregation are in Law Enforcement and they are witnessing the rise first hand. I also volunteer in a Woman's Shelter that is quite large and unfortunately it has become overcrowded for the very first time.

The conversation and beliefs among the group is that the economy and fear of job loss, home loss and those who are unemployed and have already experienced these losses are afraid this will become the norm and we are heading for another great depression.

These thoughts and experiences cause terror in the hearts of men who are usually good providers, it also unfortunately causes more violence in those who are subject to rages. It also causes bad decisions when women fear being all alone and unable to care for their children and sometimes due to that fear causes them to invite the wrong men into their homes...

That reminded me of a poem I had published sometime ago and decided maybe this would be a good time to post it for all to see and hopefully think seriously about.
The poem is called:

FOOTSTEPS IN THE DARK

Mommy says, angel it's time for bed,
Put on your nightgown and lay down your head.

I'll finish these dishes and come tuck you in,
I'll read you the story of The Fishes Pink Fins.

I ran up to my bedroom where my dollies live,
Put on my nighty and to each a hug I did give.

I hear mommy coming to say her goodnight,
After she reads me a story she'll turn out my light.

I shudder to think I'll be left all alone,
I wish I were a little frog that could hide under a stone.

I her mommy and her boyfriend talking real loud,
I hope they aren't fighting again about "three's a crowd."

Finally it's quiet, they must be asleep,
I've been a very good girl, never uttered a peep.

That's when I hear his footsteps in the dark,
he enters my room and on my bed he does park.

He tells me to be quiet, that I'm his little dove,
I feel his hands on my body, he says he's showing love.

I remember to this day, the pain and that sensation,
My childhood stolen with that feeling of degration.

The offensive behavior went on for years,
Until finally at eighteen, I left home in tears.

Why didn't she save me, instead of turn a blind eye?
I will never forget or forgive her; until the day I die.