Words of a Poet
The Box
by
Candice M. Martin
The Box
Written: December 7, 2004
Nothing special-no funeral or even a memorial card
Only tattered clothes and little bone shards.
Tucked quietly away in a wooden box-
Of the "buried" family secret, no one talks.
But in the back yard, beneath the ground-
There is a box that can be found.
No cross or stone to mark the spot-
Never told a soul for fear of getting caught.
Everything was secretly washed away-
With no penance to pay.
All pictures were thrown out as if she didn't exist-
They figured she wouldn't be missed.
Only three years old with golden hair and eyes of blue-
One night against the wall, this child momma threw.
Drunk and mad like everyday-
Momma yelled for her to get out of the way.
But she didn't know where to go-
So Momma knocked her in the nose.
When sissy began to cry so loud-
"I'll give you something to cry about", Momma vowed.
Sitting at the table, I watched as Momma hit her left and right-
Sissy cried so much and the blows she tried to fight!
But she was so little and there was nothing she could do-
So I jumped up and tried to come to her rescue.
Written: December 7, 2004
Nothing special-no funeral or even a memorial card
Only tattered clothes and little bone shards.
Tucked quietly away in a wooden box-
Of the "buried" family secret, no one talks.
But in the back yard, beneath the ground-
There is a box that can be found.
No cross or stone to mark the spot-
Never told a soul for fear of getting caught.
Everything was secretly washed away-
With no penance to pay.
All pictures were thrown out as if she didn't exist-
They figured she wouldn't be missed.
Only three years old with golden hair and eyes of blue-
One night against the wall, this child momma threw.
Drunk and mad like everyday-
Momma yelled for her to get out of the way.
But she didn't know where to go-
So Momma knocked her in the nose.
When sissy began to cry so loud-
"I'll give you something to cry about", Momma vowed.
Sitting at the table, I watched as Momma hit her left and right-
Sissy cried so much and the blows she tried to fight!
But she was so little and there was nothing she could do-
So I jumped up and tried to come to her rescue.
But Momma looked at me with such evil in her eyes-
Told me not to even give it a try.
So I sat back down and watched sissy bleed-
Every time she cried out, it was as if Momma would feed.
Momma just kept kicking her and hitting sissy so much-
Onto the top step sissy clutched.
Momma knew sissy was trying to run and hide-
But she wasn't going to swallow her pride.
She picked up sissy and through her against that wall-
Then silence fell and sissy didn't try to crawl.
Lifeless she lay, bloody and bruised-
Next, I was used.
Momma said that I wanted to help so much, now I could-
"Go out back and get some wood!"
When I came back, it was a box we built-
Momma thought this would wash away her guilt.
Into the box, sissy I had to lay and bury her outside-
Momma said her body we had to hide.
She threw away all pictures to make it go away-
But in my mind it will always stay.
I could never tell a single soul, Momma had said-
Or I too would wind up dead.
No one ever asked where sissy went-
Only Momma and I knew of the box and its contents.
The box, holding sissy for all these years-
And Momma filling me with so many fears.
It's my turn to bury a box once again-
But this time, Momma's inside and now she'll pay for her sin.
Told me not to even give it a try.
So I sat back down and watched sissy bleed-
Every time she cried out, it was as if Momma would feed.
Momma just kept kicking her and hitting sissy so much-
Onto the top step sissy clutched.
Momma knew sissy was trying to run and hide-
But she wasn't going to swallow her pride.
She picked up sissy and through her against that wall-
Then silence fell and sissy didn't try to crawl.
Lifeless she lay, bloody and bruised-
Next, I was used.
Momma said that I wanted to help so much, now I could-
"Go out back and get some wood!"
When I came back, it was a box we built-
Momma thought this would wash away her guilt.
Into the box, sissy I had to lay and bury her outside-
Momma said her body we had to hide.
She threw away all pictures to make it go away-
But in my mind it will always stay.
I could never tell a single soul, Momma had said-
Or I too would wind up dead.
No one ever asked where sissy went-
Only Momma and I knew of the box and its contents.
The box, holding sissy for all these years-
And Momma filling me with so many fears.
It's my turn to bury a box once again-
But this time, Momma's inside and now she'll pay for her sin.
©2004 Candice Martin
Encouraging words from Candice
There is always someone you can tell if you are being abused and writing is one of the best therapy's around. It has offered me such healing over the years. Our voice doesn't always have to be vocal it often comes out in our writings and that is when we really find ourselves.
Here are your discussion questions. Please feel free to post your comments and ask Candice about her work and upcoming events. Thank you for your participation and constant support.
What are your views on this piece?
Have you read any of Candice work? If so what is your favorite?
What would you like to ask Candice?
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