Morning after morning.
Morning after morning,
Every day the same.
I wake to hear your
Under the breath comments
About my Dad needing a job.
He hears them too,
And maintains his dignity by offering to move out,
And goes about his business of calling places he could stay at.
I lay safely under the fluresence of my pink tie-dyed doona,
And I'm sure they don't realise I can hear them.
Minutes later,
Without a doubt,
She returns, crying;
Says she's sorry,
And of course, begs him to stay.
He accepts,
Because he never really wanted to move out in the first place.
He just wanted to be respected.
He's a kind man with a pure heart,
He's just having trouble competing with men half his age,
For a job he doesn't want.
The yelling and screaming continues...
Day in, day out.
I thought I'd sufferered enough when my parents went through this!
I thought the fighting would be over!
What is it about my Dad that attracts controlling women?
His kind face?
His warm heart?
His accepting and forgiving eyes?
I keep thinking it'll be over soon.
Yet here we are,
Morning after morning,
Every day the same.
Raised voices echo through my thick walls.
Jennifer Walker
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