The Therapist

This piece deals graphically with the subject of sexual abuse/ assault. 
Be warned.

1

I was the woman they needed
I was the woman they hated
because I was the woman they needed
mother sister lover
the daughter
they held down in her bed

they said
women have all the power
only they said
cunt

they wanted me to love them
they wanted me to fear them

I watched my rear view mirror all the way home
I wanted them to be healed
I wanted them to die in prison
I wanted them to die

2

they were men who had done nothing wrong because they waited
until their daughters developed
and were women

they were men who had done nothing wrong because
they never touched her after she was five
and might remember

they were men who had done nothing wrong because they stopped
when their daughters were old enough
to get pregnant

they were men who had done nothing wrong because she was adopted
so it wasn’t really
incest

they were men who had done nothing wrong because
she was his own
blood

they were men who had done nothing wrong because having sex as children
with their own father/mother/uncle/coach/ had done them
no harm

they were men who raped their daughters and said
at least I never cheated
on my wife

they were men who raped women and said
at least I’m no
child molester

they were men who raped little girls and said
at least I’m no
queer

they were men who molested boys and said
at least I’m no
rapist

3

they were blaine, jim, bob, gary, phil, jonathan, paul, and paul, and paul
they were the boy left bleeding from his anus in a motel room when he was 10
they were the boy sold to his mother’s customers when he was 3
they were the boys loved by priests

they were the boy who smothered to death a 9 year old girl
after raping her with a tennis ball
when he was 13

they were the man who went to his childrens’ beds
as he went to the refrigerator for a snack

they were the boy beaten repeatedly by his father
who picked him up each time he fell
and beat him
again

they were the man
enraged at his wife
who raped and raped and raped his stepdaughter
on the concrete floor
in the basement

they were the man who hung himself in the bathroom
after being released from prison and finding
baby-raper
written on the door of his apartment

they were the man who loved only children
who asked me
how would you feel if they told you
you can never have sex
again?
If you knew that no one will ever touch you
there
again?

they were the man with 23 known victims
all boys 7-9 year old blondes with blue eyes
who told me
all the good things he did for those poor children
inadequate mothers and no fathers in the home
and how he had loved them all until they weren’t
7-9 years old
anymore

they were the man who shot himself in front of his wife and son
after calling a women’s shelter for help and being refused
because
he was a man

they were the man who woke from a week of drinking
covered with blood
beneath his wife’s
mutilated
body

they were the man who cried after four years in treatment
when he realized that the child he thought was asleep when he molested her
wasn’t

they were the man who raped all four of his daughters for sixteen years
and then assaulted another man in group
for taking the name of the lord in vain

they were the sweet slow boy who raped his teacher’s 10 year old daughter
after a failing grade when he was 12 and free
at 18 he attacked my friend with a knife
and when she told me a stranger had assaulted her

I knew who it was

4

I knew who he was

he was my father
he was my boyfriend
he was my grandfather
he was my uncle
he was my doctor
he was my brother’s best friend
he was my best friend’s brother
he was my cousin
he was my lover
he was my friend

5

I loved him

   

10 responses to “The Therapist”

  1. This is really very well written, as I could imagine every point you made.
    I wrote about child abuse in light of two very brutal killings of children in Malaysia recently. Also included some statistics on child abuse, and what we can do to prevent child abuse.

  2. Only yesterday, a girl who left school in Feb for no apparent reason came to see me. I was mighty angry with her at first becos I had loved her like a daughter and she had just stopped coming to school one day.
    She started crying after I finished my tirade. Thn she told me the horrors of being rapedby her father since she had been 9 years old. Her mother along with her younger sister had run away from home hiding from her father. They had landed up in Delhi. She had got both her daughters admitted here.
    Suddenly in Feb, her father found them after three years. Her mom again did a vanishing act to protect both her daughters going into hiding yet again.
    But for how long? They need education and she needs a school leaving certificate for that.
    I told them to report the case but the laws in India do not protect kids, not even from their own parents.
    I had been thinking about it since yesterday, now I get to read this.
    I work for abused children and seen and heard horrible stuff. Even thn I am affected by it.
    I wrote all that because your poem moved me.

  3. This is the most powerful poem I’ve ever read on this subject. It’s sent shivers up my spine.

  4. without navigating away from this page,, i cannot tell for sure what other references thee are to this verse… nor am i sure whether or not you wrote it… no matter,, it is very intense and very real and hurtful,, as i am sure was its intention… indeed an excellent choice

  5. Brutually perfect.
    If I can remember the publication looking for submissions around this theme I will send it along. I think I sent an email to my blog-pal WD, so will ask her if she still has it. This is beautiful. Horribly beautiful.

  6. this part is especially powerful:
    hey were the man who raped all four of his daughters for sixteen years
    and then assaulted another man in group
    for taking the name of the lord in vain
    it’s all very brave!

  7. Yes.
    This couldn’t be more true.
    That is what is so wrenching. I loved him.
    Still do.

  8. Thank you all for stopping by and commenting on my poem. I hesitated about posting this, so it matters to know that it resonated with readers.
    Hope to see you again

  9. When I was young, I thought the way to cope was to face everything, to confront, to know the truth — all that Walt Whitman stuff. But then as I grew older, I discovered some truths:
    You can’t know that you’re missing something because your own head tricks you — an outside person has to help you see things.
    No matter how bad something is, there is always something worse. No matter how easy your own life is, it doesn’t always mean you can help others. It just doesn’t come out even. But you can try.
    Confronting things, having insights, doesn’t change things. You have to do something differently than before.
    Thanks, Sharon.
    Prairie Mary

  10. You helped me.
    Thank you
    WD

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