When My Son Cried

Warning: This poem is dark and contains explicit Child Abuse.

When my son cried

I used to beat him

To make him understand

That when his father was sleeping

He was not to make a sound.

He was only two years old

I raised my fist,

I held him down,

I struck him hard upon his skin.

I did not care how much I beat him

As long as he stopped screaming.

When at last he fainted

From the pain I beat into him,

Satisfied

I would go to bed.

My son had stopped screaming.

When my son cried

I used to beat him

Because I knew of no other way to explain

That when he was hungry

He must not complain.

He was only four years old.

I raised my fist,

I pinned him back against the wall,

I struck him hard upon his skin.

I did not care how much I beat him

As long as he stopped screamimg.

When at last he fainted

From the pain I beat into him,

Satisfied

I would stalk away.

My son had stopped complaining.

When my son cried

I used to beat him

To make him understand

That when he was lonely

He must not cry for love.

He saw only six years old.

I raised my fist,

I flung him back upon the floor,

I struck his bruised, delicate skin.

I did not care how much I beat him

As long as he stopped crying.

When at last he crawled away

And wept where I could not hear him,

Satisfied

I would go back to what I held important.

I could not hear my son’s crying.

When my son cried

I used to beat him

To make him understand

That when he needed my help

He must not ask for it

For I have no time for him.

I raised my fist,

I struck him hard,

I left him to sob,

Locked inside the grim darkness

Of the hall closet.

I did not care for his feelings.

I have no time for a son

Who begs for me all the time.

I have no time for a son

Who pleads for food and company.

I was left with a son

When my girlfriend died.

Forced into the role of unwanted dad

Made my life miserable.

I punished my son for burdening me with himself

By making him live in pain.

Every time I see my son

I only see whining

And begging and pleas for things

That I do not give him as a kind father should.

I let my son

Starve and cry.

I let him live in the cold in rags.

I do not care how much

He suffers

As long as he does not bother me.

I did not see

The pain in his eyes.

I did not see the bruises

That mars my son’s face.

I did not see his outstretched arms

Begging for my company.

I did not see how much he loves me.

Our lives changed

When Kindness came to show me how to love him.

For the first time I saw

How much I had hurt my child.

The sudden realization

Pierced my heart like a cruel knife.

I resolved never to beat my son again.

What I had done

Would haunt me for life.

My son is sweet;

He forgave me through all his pain.

My child smiled through his tear for

He could not bring himself to

Withhold forgiveness from me.

Now . . .

When my son cries

I hold him close to me.

I do not care that he

Wakes me from my sleep at night.

I hold him close and

I let him weep,

Comforting my child with the love that makes me

A father for eternity.

When my son’s grief is gone,

It is soaked into my shirt

And my son lies down next to me.

Satisfied,

I fall asleep.

My son now is happy.

When my son cries

I hold him close to me.

I know memories of abuse

Haunt him more then they hurt me.

I hold him close and

I let him weep,

Comforting my child with the love that makes me

A father for eternity.

When my son’s grief is gone,

I feed him well

On nourishing food.

Satisfied

I watch him eat.

My son is no longer hungry.

When my son cries

I hold him close to me.

I know he craves my company.

I hold him close and

I stroke his hair with a gentle,

Kind hand until he stops weeping.

Satisfied

I hold him close.

My son is comforted and happy.

When my son cries

I hold him close to me

For I have all the time in the world to help him with his struggles.

I keep him with me

Safe and warm

Caring for his feelings.

His fear of pain and dark

Have faded.

Satisfied

I am content for

My son is now truly mine to care for and cherish.

I am grateful

To have a child who loves me.

I do not mind

That my girlfriend died

And left me with a child to care for.

Now I make him happy

Always caring for his feelings.

Every time I see my son

I now see joy and happiness.

I see him laugh and smile and play

Unafraid of cruelty.

I see him sleep in a warm bed

Dressed properly.

I see him eat of good, rich foods

And no longer does he have to plea

For comfort in starvation.

I let my son live in freedom

Caring for his necessary needs.

I see now his bright eyes

Dimmed only by bad memories.

I see his delicate skin

Healed and unmarked by cruelty.

I see his outstretched arms

Begging for my company.

And I go to him to

Reassure him that he still has my love.

He will never lose it.

My heart is healed

As is his.

My son loves me.

I love him

As any father should.

Forgiveness was given to me

For cruelly treating my child

When all he ever wanted was

Someone to wipe his grieving eyes,

Massage his tired body,

And kiss him goodnight.

Father. He calls that person father.