For this the tears do spill

A sat on the counch,
Next to the phone
Beneath the lights
Mum and me alone

It had taken a while
To find the courage beneath
To understand the turmoil
To become covered in grief

I kept the secret silent
I had held off for many years
The thought; the terror; the anguish
The nights; the horror; the fears

And so I decided on the day
To tell what lay so hidden
To let her know what I had to say
To tell her what was so forbidden

Mum, I said in my quietest voice
Dad is touching me all the time
She looked at me without a blink
A look that should have shown a crime

She turned to me and said
"Is there something you want me to do?"
And to this, I had no reply
So I just said "No"; quiet ensues

And then there was a silence
I heard it for many years
It filled my life with horror
I cried a life of tears

I had taken the courage to tell her
The silence is deafening still
For why did she not help me
For this the tears do spill.


May 2006


It took me years to recover and to seek therapy. My mother could have started this process earlier. I moved out not long after this incident. I do not know her reasonings behind her silence. For three of her daughters had been abused and still she was silent when her granddaughters visited......... I no longer visit. The unfortunate thing is that the months before this incident, we had grown closer, and I trusted her more.