Father

Even in my temple of solitude
Pounding and screaming strikes my ear.
To tune out his vicious battle cries
I nurse my bruise, praying another isn’t near.
I count the steps to the door to calm all my fears.

Five steps to that door?
Will Father hear me and scream once more
Or will his army or words beet me until I’m lying on the floor?
One creak, one sound—he’s on his way
To add another tally in blood to his final score.

Eight steps to the door?
This time I’ll pray for help and guidance,
Hoping no one’s waiting for me in a blood lusting trance.
Quieter steps, a slam, a punch,
I’m back in my temple wondering how much longer.

Ten steps to the door?
Has Father passed out once more
After forcibly stirring the clouds and rain?
Wrong guess again and I’ll be sore.
This time he came out flying like a train.

Fifteen steps out that door?
A reasonable guess, but yet once again
I’m cracked and breaking under his drunken bottle.
No more steps for now, just wondering how to begin.
I never knew I could be in so much pain.

He stole from me a mother,
Crushed my little sister with the last dime.
My temple is not safe anymore.
Lips bleeding, body shaking, I’ll stand one last time.
In eighteen steps I’ll be out that door.