Italian nightmare

Coming back to do the right thing,

now under threat of an indecent fling.

The fragile newborn lay innocent witness

 to it’s father, about to rape me reckless.

My naivety, in shock now terrorised by reality

saw me excuse my presence to regain some strategy.

Fled as I did to a bathroom close by.

Found the levels for escape too high.

Fearing the worst –  that loaded gun!

My prayers now answered by the return of a new mum.

I ran for the door  – torn jeans covered with tact,

my dignity and sanity somewhat shaky, intact.

Mumbling goodbyes so as not to arouse –

suspicions and fears suppressed though not doused.

I left swiftly, not turning back –

ran to the sanctuary of my familial pack.

In a cold sweat – knowing the threat was ever so close –

still my trauma I buried in inverse prose.

Not wanting to destroy neighbouring ties,

I suffered in silence – akin to lies.

Now forty two years later I finally acknowledge –

my fears thus conquered,  I wield the wedge !

Memories long-distant no longer hold sway

and the history though poignant – no longer informs  my day.




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