She knows him, a poem.

One day
he walked out,
screaming
they say
he was doing over 100
when he
hit the tree,

Her tears
were genuine
mingled
relief and grief
mixed
she knew she was free…

In death
he was a champion
praised
to the roof
good man, good father
her bruises
knew better!
yet for the children
she bows her
head,
to herself
she is glad he is dead
they’d never
believe her anyway,
she can’t pray
anymore.

One day
when
all the toxic waste
has been
cleared, she may mourn
for the past
wasted in thinking
she was
the problem.

Chris