His Anger Had Hands

He sat in his chair like a god

remote

unbending

eyes that cut through walls

and landed on me

without mercy

He didn’t need to shout

the room rearranged itself

around his silence

my limbs knew how to freeze

how to lower my gaze

how to be nothing

The world outside went on

bicycles scraped pavement

children laughed in backyards

but our house breathed different air

it held its breath when he walked through it

His grip came without warning

not rage, not love

just control

the kind that teaches you

your body isn’t yours

your voice will cost you

your name can be taken

I never told anyone

not because I didn’t want to

but because I didn’t know

how to put it into words

that wouldn’t shatter the room

I sleep in a different bed now

in a different town

with locks I choose

but some nights

without reason

my fists still close

Even after all these years

I wake sweating

his touch crawling back

I still see him

I still feel him

even though he is gone now

Author's Note:

When I was growing up, my mother, my siblings, and I suffered abuse at the hands of my father. It took my mother many years to get us out of that house. It also took years of working with a therapist before any of us felt safe enough to talk about it.

This poem comes from the silence we lived in, and the fear that shaped us long after we left.

If you or someone you know is living through abuse, please don’t ignore it. Please help them. Most of the time, the person being hurt is too afraid to leave not because they don’t want to, but because they don’t believe they can.

Show them that they can. Help them find a way out.

No one deserves to live in fear.

Report Child Abuse: 877-237-0004