Voice of a child (1)

Never come home, daddy.

Two days back

I heard you hitting mummy.

Daddy, I shrieked in fear.

J

   umping from bed I tried

To hold you back.

Sharp was the whack

That fell on my back.

Then it was little Tina’s turn.

Red went her cheeks from your slap.

Mummy is used to starvation.

What about Tina and me?

Every night is a nightmare for me.

Though I love you I hate you

‘cause I see you d   u   k

                             r   n

            If you can’t be sober

Daddy dear, better you don’t come home

            It is better without you.

           

[This poem was accepted for publication in Letters from the Soul. Washington,2002.]