The second I broke into that house
hearing the cries of despair.
That vicious dog snarling at my heels
as the rest of my police unit.
Handcuffed the vicious man shouting abuse
pleading for mercy and a truce.

His poor wife just sitting and crying
fear etched upon her damaged face.
Comforted by a female colleague so calm
as a stillness began to fill the place.
It was not easy being focused on this case
she passed me at a slow pace.

The years of abuse were clear to see
two children cowered so scared.
Whimpering in their filthy bedroom
that sense of sadness was strong.
How glad I was to leave that awful scene
a home where love should have been.

I heard the wife had dropped the charges
so common in violent cases.
No doubt the problems would be repeated
and trauma started over again.
Both children removed for their own welfare
to those who would give real care.

Cries of despair can be heard out there
where so many suffer unaware.

The Foureyed Poet.