Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
The pebbles had rolled off the slopes.
They could not hold on any longer.
They were too light, too smooth, too innocent.
The tornado carried them away.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
Parts of his soul.
Parts of his heart.
Parts of him, carried away into the unknown.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
So the pebbles lived in the eye of the tornado.
Bouncing around the globe as she saw fit.
They didn’t know of the destruction.
There is peace in the eye of the tornado.
Only sometimes, when she moved too erratic,
Would the pebbles glimpse debris, vomit, spew, and racket.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
But they didn’t know what it meant.
When they saw bits of the debris.
They saw bits of the mountain.
They recognized the bits of the mountain.
Violently circling in the debris signature below.
So they came to associate the mountain with violence and rage.
Because that’s what they saw through the eye of the tornado.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
They could not hear the mountain over the noise of the tornado.
They could not see the mountain through the ball of vomit and bile.
Tag: abusive relationship
The Rock
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
He was a rock.
Strong, tall, rough, boisterous, as happy as rocks can be.
A mountain really, with smooth patches, softened by eons of experience,
With frost scars from a distant past.
‘He will last forever’, they said.
‘He is so strong. He is the powerful one.’
But they didn’t know.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
They didn’t know, that:
Every day, the rock was fighting.
They didn’t know, that:
She was the hurricane of insanity.
Screaming at him, tearing off parts of the solid facade.
She was the tornado of destruction.
He never knew when she would hit.
He never knew what ammunition she had picked up on her path of destruction.
They didn’t know, because air is invisible.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
They didn’t know that she would always find a way.
To force entry into the frost-scar.
To violently insert poisonous pellets of ice,
Which would break the frost-scars wide open.
Which had made his mountain-top crumble, and eroded his slopes.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
They didn’t know, that the hurricanes hatred was an obsession.
It was her sport, her past-time.
Because he was a rock. Because he was a mountain. So he could not move.
He could not defend himself.
He was the strong one, he was not permitted to rebuke.
So she was tantalizing, hunting, hurting, sometimes for a change, whisper warm spring winds. Soft air playing with the bleeding scars.
And he could not move.
Male Victims of Domestic Abuse
They didn’t know that after a couple of days of silence.
She could not bear it any longer and she would vomit her debris,
Violently, spew it all over him.
He could not even open an umbrella.
And still they didn’t know.
He had no bruises, the cuts invisible. The frost-scars, just frost scars.
But this was just the beginning…
Your Hate
Your Hate is an empty echo
You scream it into the voids of the virtual realm
It shows shallow understanding:
Of yourself, your behaviour, your ignorance,
Your manipulation, your anger, your violence
Your Hate does not reach me
No matter how hard you try
Because it aims at a person—a version you created of me—that does not exist
Your Hate attacks a projection of your own pain—not me
Yet you cannot see this
Because Your Hate
Red mist—even after such a long time
Clouds your judgement
Of your self
Of others—not just me
Others you have wronged with misdirected hate
Others you have wronged with victimizing yourself
Silent Atonement I had to exercise for believing your smokescreen of hate
And so I prayed
And lid candles
I asked for your soul to be saved
But you need to want saving
And you don’t
Because being saved
Is painful
Hate
Is easy
Poetry by Nathalie 