Tenter hooks and Pitiful Looks. (The Refuge)
This is a continuation from my previous poem, Tenter Hooks and Telling Looks. This is a series of poems that will attempt to take the reader into the experience of domestic violence through the eyes of the survivor. The first poem attempted to convey (very briefly) the first attempt at leaving an abusive partner. My intention is follow my own personal experience of going through the system. This poem is a recollection of my first contact with a refuge.
Taxi for Clare!
Yes, she will be there in a minute!
“Where am I going?”
“ The driver knows where he is going. He will take you somewhere safe”
Erm… OK. But I have no money, I had to leave in such a hurry!”
“There’s no need to worry, it’s all taken care of.”
“Wow, Thank you! But please can you tell me where we are going?”
“I am so sorry, I just can’t say, but rest assured it is somewhere safe.”
Taxi driving through familiar streets
The rain has now turned into sleet
Baby’s crying
I’m all alone
I really wish I could just go home
Down a side road
We pull into a stranger’s driveway
“Alright love, this is us. Just ring the bell there’ll be someone to let you in.”
Err… hello. My name is Clare, I believe you are expecting me?”
Warm Office and a friendly smile
I’m not sure how long but it’s been a while
Same questions just a different style
“No, well … I don’t think he ever really hit me.”
“There was the time he tried to strangle me … perhaps more than once.”
“Oh there was the time he locked me out of the house for hours, but he did apologise with flowers!”
Erm… I can’t really say … it’s really hard to describe. One minute he’s kind the next, well he loses his mind.”
“No, I’m so sorry, I left in such a hurry. Everything that I have is in the nappy bag.”
Kind people have donated all sorts of things
I find myself under the stairs rummaging.
A toothbrush!
Some baby grows and some clothes for me!
“This is home now.” She says with a pitiful look in her eyes
“Don’t forget you have to make an appointment with the DSS.”
Then I’m alone, just me and the babe
I rest my eyes over my new ‘home’
One single bed that almost fills the space
One single wardrobe for the clothes I don’t have
One baby cot squeezed into the corner
One cracked mirror reflecting my sad
Pathetic face
I really wish I could go home.
C.K.23.
John Botterill
Thu 11th May 2023 08:35
Amazingly honest writing, Clare. I was back there with you, as it were. The power of your writing conveys the desperation you must have felt.