Hey Mister,
Why did my Mommy cry at night? I don’t understand. She made supper for my Daddy, but then he came home late but he didn’t let anybody know. So it got so cold, but my Daddy got so mad. I didn’t like it when my Daddy made my Mommy cry. Daddy would scream so loud, and most of the time, he would hit Mommy. She would tell him she was sorry, but he didn’t care. He would just hit her harder and harder, and he would scream mean things at her. And she would just lay in the floor and cry. I didn’t like living with my Daddy. One time my Mommy mismatched a pair of Daddy’s socks when she did the laundry. That really made Daddy mad. He hit her really hard that time, and Mommy had to go to the hospital that night. When the doctor asked her how she got her nose broken, she told him she just fell down some stairs. I asked Mommy later why she lied, and she said it was because Daddy loved her and she didn’t want him to have to go to jail. Daddy is in jail now, though. Last week, Mommy and Daddy had a fight while I was sleeping. Daddy must have knocked Mommy in the floor. When I got home from school the next day, Mommy was still laying in the same spot that she was in when Daddy hit her. I called 9-1-1 just like I had been taught. I was a good girl. The ambulance came and some nice police men asked me what happened. I told them everything I heard the night before. One of the police men took me with him, and I got to ride in the car with him to the police station. Another one stayed at my house until Daddy got home. He arrested my Daddy. Now I get to live with you, Mister. Do you yell at your wife and hit her? I hope not. She’s too nice for you to make her cry.

~Tonya

i’m sorry
for what i did to you
i’m sorry
that i was a little rude
i’m sorry
that i didn’t iron your jeans
i’m sorry
that i ordered pizza for dinner
i’m sorry
that i wore your shirt
i’m sorry
that i got in late from church
i’m sorry
that i screamed back at you
i’m sorry
that i dodged your punch
i’m sorry
that i didn’t dodge the second one
i’m sorry
that i backed down
i’m sorry
that i didn’t hit back
i’m sorry
that i ever met you
i’m sorry
that you are at my funeral
i’m sorry
that you ever were born.

~Tonya

I lie helpless
in my own bed
in my own home.
I feel hurt
and violated
and alone.
I loved him once and
he loved me because
he told me so.
I know that
I have little time left
as the life seeps out
of the gash
across my forehead
and my neck
and my arms
and my back.
I lie helpless
in my own bed
in my own home.
He is gone now
and he left
the broken lamp
that he used to hit me.
He really loved me
I just burned his chicken.
I know he doesn’t
want the crust too dark.
I know that
I have little time left
and it would be okay
if only I hadn’t
put bologna
instead of turkey
in his lunch yesterday.
He told me
that he doesn’t like
the smell
of bologna.
I lie helpless in my own bed, in my own home.
I know that I have little time left.

~Tonya

The Wife's Lament (ca. 900)
I make this song sadly about myself,
about my life. I a woman say
I've been unhappy since I grew up,
yet no old pain like now
for now I know dark exile.
First my lord left his people,
went over the rolling waves. I had dawn sorrow,
wondering in what land my lord was.
Then I went out into friendless exile
to remedy my grief. Then men
of my husband's tribe began to plot
secretly to drive us apart,
hugely far in the world's kingdom.
I lived loathsomely with longing.
My lord commanded me to take a hut here
in a land where I have few friends,
few good friends, so my mind is sad.
When will I find the man matched to me,
wretched, sad-minded,
hiding his mood, thinking of murder?
Before, we were happy and swore
that only death could rip us apart,
nothing else. But this is turned round,
as if our friendship
never was. Far and near I must
suffer my love's anger.
That man drove me out to live in the woods
under an oak tree, in a cave.
This cave is old, I despair.
The valleys are dim, the dunes tall,
the village overgrown with bitter thorns,
and joyless houses. Often my lord's wrathful
going seizes me. There are friends on earth
living in love, lying in bed,
while I go alone at dawn
under the oak, through the cave.
There I must sit each long summer day,
weeping abundantly over my exile
and troubles. So I can't rest
from my worried mind, nor the longings
which hold me for life.
May that man always have darkness
in his heart. He will seem
happy, but his chest will ache,
a throng of sorrow. Let him find joy
off by himself. Let him be banished
on a far land. My love sits
under a stone slope rimed with storms,
a lord weary in mind, soaked with water
in a dreary room. My lord endures
much mind-sadness. Often he remembers
a joyful floor. Grief for them
who wait longing for love.

~Anonymous

torn

the rope is
beginning
to fray
once strong
but
now weak
all that has been
strong
and sure
is leaving me
all alone
once

again

my life is
shredding
before my eyes
i must learn
to do it
on my own

again

happily complete
no more
the path that leads
to nowhere
is unlit
littered
overgrown
and i am alone

again

~Tonya
 

Crushed

The little girl lived in and loved a beautiful gingerbread house until one day her daddy blew her a good-bye kiss and slammed the door. And then the gingerbread house fell. The little girl was crushed. But she grew and the wounds began to heal and the little girl was a teenager and she was beautiful and had many boyfriends and lived in a city of cards. The teenager thought she had met her One True Love and moved in with him into a house of cards. But one day her One True Love blew her a good-bye kiss and slammed the door. And then the house of cards fell. But she grew and the wounds began to heal and the teenager became a woman and she was beautiful and had many lovers and lived in a city of steel. The woman thought she had met the Perfect Man and moved in with him in a cabin in the woods. But one day the Perfect Man blew her a good-bye kiss and slammed the door. And the cabin fell. The woman was crushed, and she was finished growing and the wounds didn't begin to heal and the woman grew older and didn't have boyfriends or lovers and lived in a city of dirt. She blew her reflection a good-bye kiss and slammed the door and pulled the trigger. The house of dirt didn't fall. The old woman was crushed and fell. She became a corpse, and the wounds stopped bleeding and the old woman was lifeless and alone. And nobody cared.

~Tonya

The Evil Cousin

i like my cousins
well most of them
i think i can say
most are my friends

but there is one
whom i cannot stand
he is a jerk
he thinks he's a man

i will never forgive him
for what he did
i couldn't prevent it
i was only a kid

i will never forget
what he did to me
why didn't he
just let me be?

~written by a 14 year old sexual abuse victim

Last Gasp

staring up at you
from behind blood
saturated eyes----i've
been broken.
your hands glow red with me
i never realized their strength
before tonight
a pulpy face and crushed
bones testament to this
revelation.
my stain soaks into your
threadbare carpet spreading
with every painful intake of
bubbling air----lungs full
of coppery liquid.
no remorse or tenderness can
be found in your eyes
no apology forms on your lips
reaching out to you in futility
my body shudders its last gasp.

~Melissa Piacenza
 

You Agitate Me

Your voice grates on my nerves.
Fingernails on a chalkboard,
It sends shivers up and down my spine.

You try to be smart.
You give a valiant effort
But nothing you say ever makes sense.

You speak over me,
Straining your voice to be heard.
No one really cares what either says.

You must criticize
Even the smallest thing and,
To be quite honest, it annoys me.

You’ve convinced yourself
That you are superior -
Your face shining holier-than-thou.

To be quite honest,
You’re just plain weird and I don’t
Really like you all that very much.

~Suzanne Sansing