Offended, you may be
Sorry, I am not
A reflection of yourself
I hope to show you
The quiet ones tend only see them selves
Through others who judge them
I refuse to accept blame
I trusted you to protect me
And for that it is a shame
Sorry only that I stayed quiet for so long
Not for trusting that I would be okay
Not for the truth I’m about to speak
Now, you will finally hear me
Queen of drama, maybe
A skill, acquired through your ignorance
Drama is the only thing to which you respond
Drama is the only thing to which you will listen
Listening in the first place
May have prevented all this drama
Listening in the first place may have
Stopped him dead in his tracks
Listening in the first place could have saved us all
And whatever sweet little girls he hurt after me
Or during the six years he was living with us
You held my trust when you held my hand
Every time we crossed the street
I felt safe with you
You had no idea how much I was protecting you
I had no idea how much it would cost me
My Father, a well known drunk
Resented by many including myself
My father, loud and crass, obnoxious and crude
Always taught me to be heard
To never be silenced
Mother
Poised and graceful
A proper lady
Radiant and beautiful
Suffered in silence, cried in private
Pushed us away when we tried to hug her
Always felt guilty, she wouldn’t leave him
She feared she couldn’t raise us on her own
Bound and blinded by her silence
She saw herself only through his anger
Too bad she didn’t know herself to be
The goddess that we did
We tried to tell her
She wouldn’t listen
To the language that we spoke
My Father a drunk and drug addicted
Depressed and bitter angry child
A Mormon rebel with a grudge against the church
Had a need to make his children pay the price
He sent us to church to teach us a lesson
Never quite sure what the lesson was
Or why he never came with us
We thought we would make him happy
Being the daughter of a rebellious religious extremist,
I wasn’t aloud to know what sex was
My own anatomy, Male anatomy
Or menstrual cycles
The fact that they taught about
Reproduction in school was a secret.
The fact that I had been repeatedly sexually assaulted
Since I was five by a member of our household
Was an even bigger secret
Good thing they never noticed how I cringed
Every time Grandpa told me to sit on his lap
I dreaded the feel on my bum
Of the bulge inside his pants
I dreaded even more
The inevitable groping, which would follow
Every time I got down from his lap
When I was seven, missionaries came to speak with me
They wanted to talk to me about sex
They showed me on a diagram where it was not okay
For boys to touch me until I was married
They stressed the importance of keeping my innocence
They said I needed to remain “pure” for my future husband
Quickly, I learned the importance of silence
The importance of not saying what they couldn’t bare to hear
Quickly, I learned the art of deceit
This was something I couldn’t be loud about.
This was a take to your grave kind of matter.
Most people were afraid of my Father.
I usually wasn’t
Unless he was angry with my Mother
Then I was afraid for her
Sometimes I got between them fighting
Always to protect my Mother
Looking at my Father with my sweet angelic face
Was my super-power, my special skill
It always worked
My Father was a sucker for my big blue eyes
I could always soften his heart
I knew he would never hurt me
Terrified that he would find out my secrets
I shouldn’t even know what sexual abuse was
Seeing myself through their eyes,
I felt so much shame
As a tainted and damaged child,
I maintained the face of an angel
An artist of illusion
Supposed to be a lady one day
A virgin bride, never touched
The only thing pure about me
Was my crafted skill in deceit
When they looked at me,
They only saw innocence
Maybe it was my innocence,
Which made me so
Appealing to Grandpa
My innocent blue eyes held the power
To tame my Father’s temper
My innocent blue eyes were what made me a target
I tried to tell Mom when I was five
When it first started
The very first time “Grandpa”
Squeezed my butt, wedged his fingers
Up deep inside the crevices of my body,
I wasn’t yet aloud to be aware of
So hard that my clothes hardly served as a barrier
Right in front of her
She didn’t notice
When he went to the bathroom right after
I told her, “Grandpa squeezed my butt”
She said “Grandpa’s like to pat children on the butts”
“It’s just what Grandpas do”
I said, “It didn’t feel good. I didn’t like it”
I couldn’t verbally express the details
Of what he did, or how it felt
I was embarrassed and afraid of getting in trouble
She said I needed to be nice to him because
We just lost my grandma
He was going through a hard time
How naïve to think that simply stating
I was made to feel uncomfortable by his touch
Would just be enough
I tried to speak the language of words
I was aloud to say
It was then I learned
My innocence was a disadvantage
Innocence simply meant
No one would take me seriously
No matter my struggles
Innocence was a curse
A punishment in and of itself
It was then I learned to never speak with words
That which my parents could not comprehend
You used to leave me with babysitters
And I begged you not to go
You thought I was having a tantrum
And just being a brat
It appeared so typical
I was trying to tell you something
I was scared
You wouldn’t listen
To the language that I spoke
As a kid, I tried to spend all day
Out of the house, not wanting to come home
Giving anything to stay at a friend’s house
You thought it typical
I just wanted to not be there
At fourteen, I wanted closure
I shed my curse of innocence
An illusion I maintained just for you
I had consensual sex with my boyfriend
You found out
Finally, a reaction out of you both
This was something that couldn’t be tolerated
This was a reason to destroy the boy who
Had my permission to touch me
Dad hunted him down with a gun
That would have been the appropriate reaction
When I told you about Grandpa
I guess it’s okay to be molested when you’re little
As long you’re shy and helpless
It’s easier to ignore
Having consensual sex when you’re a teen
And in control is wrong
My cherry popped is too much
For my loving parents to sacrifice
I think I’ve learned my lesson
I think I’ve paid the price
Years later,
I thought I was grown
I’m divorced now
A single Mother
I later married that boy
I willingly had sex with
He was abusive and a drunk
You both supported this decision
At least I wouldn’t have sex with anyone else
That’s what was important
I knew I was finally making you proud
And soon I would make you grandparents
Surrounded by conservatives
I verbally expressed my opinion
That I was for gun safety laws and background checks
I was married to a violent drunk who owned several
Everyone told me it was better that way
He could protect us from intruders in our home
The truth was too ugly, too dramatic
The truth would only bring me judgement
The truth was I needed protection from him
The truth was he pointed his gun at me
Holding my infant, he called his son
I wondered how many people
Young and old
Know that the real threats
Are in their homes
Feel terrified of their families
And not at all of the world outside
How many children don’t want to go home
I left my abusive husband
I went out on my own
You said you never knew
You said I never told you
You wish I hadn’t kept it a secret
Dad said, I should give him another chance
I say how could you not know
Not all language is verbal
Some language is behavioral
I say I told you many times
Silence was the language you taught me
Two years ago, I wanted to end my life
I loved a man who could no longer love me back
Resented my every breath and the sound of my voice
Resented my smile and my laugh
I quickly learned not to
Been quiet for so long
I didn’t know who I was
I relied on him for more than I knew
I trusted his opinions more than my own
Now, just like my Mother
I saw myself only through his eyes
What he saw was a monster
I hated myself for what I saw through him
Only capable of hurt and destruction
I was no good
Disconnected from my family
They wouldn’t understand
I called you every week to catch up
Silenced by the your expectations
And my obligations
I couldn’t stand being completely alone
Not being able to really talk to a single person
Of course you don’t remember
You didn’t even know that I wasn’t okay
My tears fell silent, not to burden a soul
No one could hear the
Language that I spoke
I often wonder why you didn’t bother
To consult with authorities
About the old man covered in prison tats
Before letting him move in
Before letting him babysit
I often wondered
Why no police came to talk to me
Once I told you the truth
Six years after it started
The morning after
He showed me his junk
He made me fear for my life
And my sister’s
I was relieved not to
Have to answer questions
Now I know
Still, no one believed me
You made him leave but
Never reported him
I shouldn’t have told you
I should have gone to the police
He would have gone back to prison
Twenty years later
You say it’s okay
He’s probably dead by now
I guess that should provide
Some sort of comfort
Never mind the freedom he had
To do as he pleased until then
Never mind the other victims
Never mind the little girl
He raped and murdered before me
He was supposed to be on death row
He would have gone back to prison
Had you listened
Instead, he made me see the world
The way he wanted me to
He made a fool out of you
Oh well, who cares
Not you, I guess
The distance between us
You thought was physical
For we live a couple states away
The distance between us
Is much more I fear
Thank you for listening
I needed your ear
It isn’t merely your presence I seek
These poems could be
The language to you, I speak
