out of body
floating up to the basement ceiling
looking down upon myself
so detached in disbelief
a very curious feeling.
watching myself lying helpless below
my own father’s fingers closing my throat
I guess I always
knew this would happen
I guess I knew it would
end up like this.
sixteen years old
my life leaking out
mom runs in and
saves the day.
sometimes I still feel his
hands on my neck
sometimes I still feel his
hate on my heart.
The out of body by Rick Belden, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
5 Comments Add your own
1. Tracie&hellip | October 23rd, 2010 at 1:37 pm
Such an awful memory, but so perfectly described.
Thank you for sharing this with the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse.
2. Rick&hellip | October 25th, 2010 at 12:13 pm
Thanks, Tracie, and thank you for hosting this month.
3. Patricia - Spiritual Jour&hellip | October 26th, 2010 at 10:40 pm
This has to be a really painful memory. I grew up with the constant threat of violence in my childhood from my rageful, sometimes drunk dad but no actual violence like you experienced. I feel sad for both of us for the feelings of love that we missed out on as a child. Thanks for sharing your poem.
4. Eivind F S&hellip | November 1st, 2010 at 4:59 pm
Wow, so beautiful and so sad, Rick. Thank you for sharing. It touched me.
5. Rick&hellip | November 3rd, 2010 at 8:11 pm
Patricia and Eivind: Thanks to both of you for reading and commenting. The event described in this poem was a very traumatic experience and one that I’ve been working to integrate for many years. It’s been referenced in several other poems I’ve written, usually in the form of a single line (e.g., “he chokes me when I want to see my friends” in “dad I got”). Prior to writing this poem, the four lines near the end of “body memory” were the most I’d ever had to say about the experience at one time.
The mind’s ability to minimize something as horrific and downright batshit crazy as your own father trying to kill you is quite amazing. It took me about 15 years to stop denying the full reality of what he was trying to do to me that day, and another 20 years after that to write an entire poem about it.
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