Firstly, let me thanks for steering me to this poem - it is sending a big message.
I like free verse. I like how it gifts the writer with the freedom of expression with the constrains of structure. Now, I am not suggestion there is no structure because there is. There are verses that are trail neatly down the page - no more than five words. Then the other short ones, where you change a beat or emphasise t i m e. I like these play with words.
Domestic violence has been written about many times. I myself have done so. I do like the way you express an emotion with weather. I know this is not unique, but you use this metaphor with subtlety. I especially liked how effectively you used the mountain to express how impossible it would be to challenge such a rage. It is true that the mental scars last a lifetime - those words will ricochet a mind always; certainly, long after the cupboards have been repaired.
What to do in the aftermath. It's happened again. Lies have been listened to. Advice ignored. And, his true colours have been revealed. Feeling a fool would make anyone want to retreat into the safest corner and cry. Mercy has no place for a foolish heart.
The message of this poem is delivered with images of a volatile argument. The pain is depicted in such a way that the reader can easily 'feel' this and so sympathise/empathise. Transformation of an angry nature is rarely achieved. More likely that the person either leaves, or learns to live/ dodge the consequences. I believe that anyone reading this who may be going through abuse, may just find the strength to not believe the words of an abuser. The sad fact is, the abuser believes their lies too.
I'm a little rusty on commenting, so please bare with me if I ramble. I've missed your poetry! I've always felt a deep connection with your words.
My heart breaks as I've experienced this, both as a spectator and as a participant. I've been the person down the hall, listening to shouting and hearing objects slam against walls... and I've also been the person in the room, being shouted at, being the punching bag.
First stanza: Awakening to hear another argument, what a lovely way to start the day. It's usually expected but this morning, maybe it wasnt. He had promised to do better, maybe even had been.. but it was only a matter of time before he went back to his old habits. That's the thing, they trick you into believing they will become a better version of themselves. Sigh.
Second: I like how you dragged out the letters of months. I read it like that with a hint of aggravation and heartache. It really showcases the length of time.
Third: Words can hurt worse than physical contact. Bruises heal, words linger. I've got words that feel branded on me, that were spoken to me many years ago that I'll never forget. They still hurt. The imagery is really good here, I can see the cupboards smashing and rumbling.
(I could never be heard over this kind of chaos).
- You feel helpless, invisible even. No matter what you do or say, it never helps. The fighting continues and there is nothing you can do.
Last: Fear, sadness and a bit of resentment towards the end. Chances are, most people never change, especially in these situations.
Sometimes laying in bed under a warm blanket feels like the only save haven in the world... and yet that is also where our darkest thoughts form. Beautiful poem, I'm sure I'll be binge-reading your writing!!
Missed you too, Hannah! And thank you, you felt the biggest parts of this and I totally get that about the weight of words. Unfortunately, sometimes those words follow us and even if the hurt isn't as deep, we still remember.