The ringing of a telephone A simple knock when I’m alone. Someone just calling my name And screaming seem the same. A loud noise when I am sleeping, Someone throwing open my door, A car backfiring close by home, The sounds of steps across the floor.
These are the normal sounds The symphony of people living. These sounds don’t normally Carry terror along with the giving Like someone living in a war zone A place with mass invading troops. They are isolated common things Unless they arrive in huge groups.
Yet these things still bring me A painful pounding in my heart And it goes on for too long From the moment it starts. It is the gift of abandonment Of childhood neglect and abuse And is viewed by most adults As ridiculous and abstruse.
But many survivors of childhood Of threat and pain and fear Will tell you the horror remains After the passage of many years. It has to do with the inner self Being robbed of a basic trust Of life itself by their care givers, By God himself, if you must.
Because there feels a solid knowing That truly, deep inside the child There is nobody to save them From creatures near and wild. Nobody will come to rescue us When the bad things come to bite And everybody knows they come In the deepest part of the night.