A Life With Threats

A life with threats is full of regrets
if one has children. Their lives are not fun.
Yet one dares not leave lest they die. They’d grieve.
Head beat on the floor till one cannot stand--
can’t even sit up—need a helping hand.
Brain spasms for month --
cannot take too much more.
Beatings so severe
death stands at the door.

A little boy cries, “Momma, please don’t die.”
She can’t raise her head. Son feeds her in bed.
“You won’t hurt so bad … just stop fighting dad.
Please help us grow up … stay alive, happy.
Nothing will change the ways of our daddy.”
Tears on the pillow
fall from both their eyes.
Sheer pride, her choice
to fight back, isn’t wise.

A life lived with threats—no promises, bets--
to go on living she caved, stopped fighting.
Switchblade to her neck--children quiver, heck--
but no blood drawn, shed! For the children KNEW
to yield to demands. He’d not raise his hands
to make her bow, meek.
He controlled her strings!
Peace for all children
is a precious thing.