Domestic Violence Poem by Irene Hooks

1(800)- 799 - 7233. It happened before Christopher Morris Brown. My mama a diligent fusion of Robin Fenty and anime. What love got to do with it a very real question between these four walls that had obviously gone mute and blind bind by the truth and fear of abuse I never told. I never got on stage and recited this side of my truth I was afraid to speak or be one in this twisted will of life coming from a family full of secrets outing one was punishable by exclusion. And to me inclusion ment love so no whispers about daddy painted mommys face. No proclamations about how i lived with Vincent Canstillian at age six so ripe I was muzzled like a savage. This is a dream. A figment of your imagination turned nightmare, it never happened, go to your room. My dad beat the hell out of my mom. And a part of me was so confused because how could a man so wise, so smart, so loving, transform. I remember one day he took his knees and placed them on her ribs his hands he wrapped around her neck in preparation to take her life, she didn't yell or cry. Almost like after 28 years of attachment she was ready to die or maybe play possum until his conscience yelled as loud as she could from the stairs ¨Daddy stop! ¨ Not knowing who exactly I was searching for but as he turned around it was my daddy. My hero. So I never told. Can you imagine the chip on my shoulder when she said she stayed for the kids. Do you know what it feels like to be the reason your mother died while still alive she stayed for the kids. Which is why I tell people I understand why she hates me just as much as she loves me. You try looking your rapist in the face everyday you try staring at the reflection of your past every afternoon I am walking hard drive of my father and his sins. She confessed to me that he said if O Jay got away with it he can too. So sometimes I get sick of hearing dudes say they got the juice. My first example of how words can completely bound and gag someone or completely morph lies. My mother sleeps with her door locked. A bookcase behind it and a dresser behind that. She stays up until three AM singing and praying to her something to believe in for peace. She's still scared of my father even though he's remarried even though he lives two hours away far isn't far enough even though he still touches her at night he still manages to take her breath away. I moved to another state at 18 assuming she feels better now thinking maybe i'm a better child if I allow her the opportunity to forget still maneuvering like a six-year-old still trying to save my mama. Domestic violence happened before Chris Brown it happens after Chris Brown. Any of us could be Rihanna so 1(800)- 799 - 7233 if you are in danger, tell.