Sometimes I look in the mirror and check the make up 
Not cosmetically,
But the physiological make up that makes me
Sometimes I look and see the confidence
The strength with every new line that appears
But sometimes (rarely now)
I see a child’s image reflect back at me
The eight years old (me)
Weak, timid, no voice and a million fears created
by the violent noises that surrounded me
From my Jekyll and Hyde father
Memories that sometimes are so clear,
I am back there, hiding behind the sofa as a battle is fought
In the living room
It’s a noise that never leaves you
I hate violent noise
Angry voices still now
I shun those’s who take me back to hear this noise
these days I fight for the underdog, the supressed , those who feel like I felt
when mother’s shout and scream at their child
I offer a reassuring smile
to comfort to send a message not all adults scream and shout
some of us smile
so maybe when they’re grown they won’t remember
the violent noise that came from their mother mouth
maybe just maybe they will remember
the stranger that gave them that reassuring smile
and when they are grown maybe they will look in the mirror
And see an image a of smiling face starring back at them
©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland
