Oh yes there were golden moments,
I can remember quite a few,
But I cannot help recalling,
The ones that left me black-and-blue.
The times I ran and hid away,
The times I took it like a man,
Though I was just a kid and that,
Was more than one should have to stand.
My father was an angry drunk,
Sometimes he took it out on me.
Some of his abuse was verbal,
But often physical, you see.
Until one day at seventeen,
When he had backed me to the wall,
His fist was clenched with arm drawn back,
And things weren't looking good at all.
"What can I lose?" I thought, and then,
Dropped down into a fighting stance.
I knew I could not beat him but,
Felt like it was my only chance.
"Wadda you think you're gonna do?"
He then asked incredulously.
"Well, I'm not just gonna stand here,"
I said, "and let you beat on me."
He shook his head and chuckled then,
Turned round and slowly walked away.
You know, I never will forget,
The lessons that I learned that day.
The very first revelation,
That it is wrong to run and cower
When you stand up to a bully,
You take away all his power.
The other lesson learned back there,
The message that I want to send,
I vowed I'd never beat a kid,
And that the cycle would now end.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2010
About this poem:And I kept that vow. The cycle is broken!