Violent Intent Poem by Lonnie Hicks

She rushed up from her chair
hands flying
nails unsheathed
scratching
clawing,
violent intent;
and she drew blood.

He crouched away
shielding his face
but too late
the bloody scratch line
grew crimson red
and instinctively
his hand flew up
to touch the bleeding spot
where his inside red fluid
became his outside red flow.

She was back again with a
flailing kick
to reach him
at his tender spot
and buckling he
laid down flat out
and opened himself up
for her all-out assault.

She paused above him
ready to pummel again
and hesitated
because he offered
her no resistance,
no attempt to protect himself.

She grappled down onto him
saddled him to punch him
and still he made no attempt
to protect or resist.

And she hit him a small slap
and realized
she was
the aggressor.

And tears began to flow
in eyes
which realized
that isolated inside one's own violence
non-resistance
is the clue
that anger
is mostly
self-inflicted
and grows only
if it provokes
similar anger
and similar violent
resistance.

And before her then
was non-resistance
forcing her to recognize
that the one below
her violent blows
was her beloved
husband
who didn't deserve
this.

What he had done
was to lie quiet
being the mirror.