Evolution

I crossed them proverbial tracks,

walked the bridge, swam the divide,

left the wrong side and sought shelter

in the place of plenty and light.

The cost casts shadows still -

it seems the new home is no home at all;

inside the boy crawls to a corner

and watches shadows play upon the wall,

remembers his beginnings on that side,

hears the screams and feels the hard hand

or the taunts and bullying tricks

of his brothers and school friends – fear makes a terrible bed partner;

works its way into your psyche like urine

trickling across the sheets.

There were the nights when father chased someone

around the entire block, a brother or sister, hitting their ear,

or other nights lying in bed listening to the brewing overspill

of alcohol and far too long working hours.

I crossed over

but the secrets remain and draw patterns

I can never escape

no matter how far I run

but my children

have had no such nights, never felt the belt,

the tongue lash or had to walk a night street

searching for a sister to the sound

of crinkling venetian blinds as neighbours

drank their fill of some other poor sucker’s misery.

My children have no bridge to cross,

no tracks to bother with -

they are the success

despite all my accumulated failures,

they are the proof the climb out of the pit,

despite the scars and injuries, is worth the effort.