Home Rule. Poem by Gillian.E. Shaw

Mother, who only days before
had given birth
was nearly dead
and face down in deep snow.
What for? I didn't know.

Father, who turned to lock the door
bore such self thirst
but fist, unquenched -
looked up to a child there
screaming from the top stair.

When blind fury once extinguished
revealed shame and
embarrassment
then he'd snatched at the catch
blaming, beckoned her back.

As unmerciful as ever.
A new realm stained
crimson on white;
she'd crawled through frozen air
abused year after year.