Behind these walls…

With the surge of domestic violence cases in recent weeks. Poems like this become so much more relevant. Let us make a collective effort to check up on our loved ones and those in our community. The Friendship bench project has opened it’s hotlines to be a free service to us during this difficult time

Behind these walls…

I live to witness another day when he’s not home,
Home all day to torment me.
To witness another day when I don’t get the countless portions I have gotten used to;
Where staying home to save lives is now an irony.

With no earnings and a source of food,
Whimpering children in the corner,
We just stand there and watch,
How the rage flows unformed,
The rage sooty and quivering.

The weight of his anger upon my shoulders;
And scars representing the load, manifest themselves on my face.
Once his works of outstanding artistry are done,
We are strangers as if nothing happened.
Again, we sit and wait, he will strike again…

It’s a matter of time till his cup overflows with more boiling fumes,
His starved arms knocking at my door,
With apologies and spitting words, he is yet to lure me into another trap,
Either way, force is applied.
They watch, love turning into fear, right in their eyes.
Round two!

My clay body shivers in its dress,
However long shall my body ache…
Sore joints, sore words, sore judgements.
My flesh pried with tears.

If the pandemic doesn’t take me first in its age,
Starvation or the brutal lashing will..which I wear, every day, as my ointment.
My slaughter is inevitable.

By Tania Pendeke

You can connect with Tanaka through her blog –

Comments Section

Scroll to Top