Too Little To Help

 to little to help

The scariest place I’ve ever been

Was the corner of the kitchen

Next to an old stove

With chunks of porcelain missing

At 2:00 am when I was eight

And too little to stop my Father

From beating my Mother

With a cast iron skillet

Little pieces of French fries

Still stuck to the handle

He held over his head.


Too little to help…

Old enough to understand…

That POWs are Parents of War

Wars that feed on hatred

Destroying guilty predators

And innocent bystanders


            As well…


So who protects the children

When there’s no place to hide?

And where do you go for bandages

When all the grown-ups have gone to war?



5 thoughts on “Too Little To Help

  1. This one is personal for me. I grew up in a house with an alcoholic parent, and the scene of one parent beating the other or being pinned down to prevent it is all too real for me.

    All too real.

    *Shudder* You did well capturing everything. Everything.


  2. Sara these words touch me on many different levels. Firstly personally but also professionally, as an advocate for such child victims of domestic war and implosions. I am only comforted by the outstanding examples of resilience I see in some children, that sometimes is the only factor that contibutes to their survival when even the grown-ups who should be there to protect fail in their duty.

    Thank you for sharing. And yes, I agree the power of words to validate emotion and provide acknowledgement to the inner child is immense.


  3. I’ve craftily avoided writing on this subject for years. In some ways i’m sure it’s influenced other works but i’ve never confronted it full on. I think mainly because I am afraid. Not of the truth or of the reality of it, but rather myself and what might come spilling over that dam it took me so long to build. Believe me when I say “I empathize with you”. Thanks for posting this.


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