The Echo of Neglect

To call upon those
Weeping, as my father’s hands
Sketch scars into my face.

And lost, and falling,
Those hands do not reach out
To catch me.

The scars not only etched
On my flesh, but in my memories,
And in my eyes.

Disheveled threats and
Echoing promises;
The broken wail of a child
Dying, slowly dying.

And as soon as it started
It ended, but the wounds stayed
In my heart, and in my soul.

As the house rang empty
In the mornings when I rose.
And my mother sobbing
From her grave.

The fluid movement of time
Will not bring those cherubs
Any closer.

This wall built
To keep people away
Killed my guardian angel as well.

And I cry for those
Still weeping, still unfound,
Like me.

Hiding in the echo of neglect,
The memories of abuse,
Empty like the promises of the future.