Isolating Pain

Her clothes felt heavy and her shoes lead lined,

like in a nightmare when you run and run

and you just can’t get anywhere.


Her arm hung heavily at her side as big bruises

surfaced in darkening black and blue

her torn lip, a tortured broken face.


She was at her prison door and they said to her

Get out and come down the road to us.

We the police will find you safety.


Quietly, opening the wedge to a home less wrecked

and ushered the shivering children through.

What would be the cruel cost?


Hushed they walked through the blackening night,

towards a beacon of peace and hopefulness

then heard the running steps behind.


She pushed them up the drive of a waiting house

and hid behind the hedge while violence

ran muttering and threatening by.


They waited feeling the cold seeping through

their threadbare clothes grabbed in fright,

heard his oath filled cursing return.


Teeth chattering, huddled together she prayed,

and then they flitted like shadows down

the road and saw the man in blue.


He had set them onto searching for her, to fetch

her home, to bloody her battered body

but the Copper welcomed them in.


The doctor saw and treated her scars kindly

while the children stared with dead eyes

longing for comfort and a refuge.


Next they hid in a house without a view

a poor place that was simply the best

for the beaten, hopeless  homeless.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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