Monster In Training

The sound echos in the hollow room.
We look at each other and you blink,
I refuse to rub the cheek you just struck,
Refuse to spill the tears welling in the rims of my eyes.

“I didn’t mean to do that”
“You made me so angry”
“I couldn’t control myself”
“It will never happen again”

The first time you hit me,
It was my fault,
I was clumsy,
I got in your way.

The second time you hit me,
I had smiled at your friend,
“You were jealous”, you said.
“You saw red”, you said.

“The third time you hit me,
I hadn’t opened the front door immediately you knocked,
“What were you doing since?” you asked with a smile,
Just before you knocked out my front teeth.

The fourth time you hit me,
I had forgotten to kneel to greet your mother.
“Hit her well”, she said.
“That will teach her sense” she said.

You hit me when I served you Egusi instead of Ogbono,
That was the fifth time,
Then I stopped counting,
It no longer made sense.

Today you changed your son’s diaper,
I went to the market,
His wails made you commit an unmanly offense, you said.
“Isn’t he your child too?” I asked.

The slap shouldn’t have tingled,
Hadn’t you twice slapped me for saying ‘good morning?
This one wouldn’t leave a scar,
It wouldn’t bruise my skin.

My son babbles in his language
Throwing his fists in the air
His tiny face creasing with laughter
“Come and play Mummy” he seems to say.

I look at your face,
The handsome face that used to make my heart skip,
He looks like you, exactly like you
The child we made seems to be all yours, down to the dimples.

My son will not become you,
My child will not become a monster,
He will not become you,
Even if I have to kill you first.

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6 Comments

  1. The pain of domestic violence. How we excuse it at first, refusing to believe the emerging monster is real. The slow realisation that our silence has given it room to thrive.

    Beautiful one, Adaeze.

    Reply

  2. Where is our Shadow of the Rainbow ooo? We are going to protest at third mainland bridge ooo…
    Beautiful poem as always…how I wish I could write poems….
    I have said it and I will say it again, the day any man- God help you- lifts a finger to touch me in violence, I will strike back and it would be hard and very painful- even though I reject, I come against, I cast and bind that kind of scenario in my happy home.
    Women should learn to strike back! We are not punching bags and we need to learn to fight back or else….

    Reply

    1. Lol! Biko don’t protest o.
      We really need to learn how to strike back but seriously it’s not something to wish on your worst enemy.

      Reply

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