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This poem may seem dark and without hope. It is a true account of this writer from the time he was a toddler to around the early years of high school. If not for the realization that was manifested in the end, the future would have been far different than the direction that his life was headed. It is a fact that this father loved his son. In the days of this time period, spare the rod and spoil the child was the accepted rule of what would be a felony of child abuse. This poem is not to degrade or go digging up bones. It is to shine a light on the great consequential divide from that time to the present. Maybe the shame of then that led to the sway of the pendulum too far will settle one day into a more tranquil way of life. If hope is eternal, hopefully, it won’t take eternity to get there.
_THE CUBBY HOLE UNDER THE STAIRS_
Dear God in Heaven, look down on this poor little soul,
And give him peace, from all the sorrow that took its toll.
Remember when he was just an innocent child,
Sometimes he was reserved, but sometimes wild.
Remember when he was taught wrong from right,
But the right thing to do, was be from someone’s sight.
Remember when the most fearsome sound he knew,
Was a belt buckle rattle, he thought, “dear God, where are you?
Why does this man I revere and look up to as Dad,
Take such anger to me, to convince me I was bad.”
How bad can it be for a child, when his only recourse,
Is to place a call to you, when you are his only source.
Remember the times, when he would go to that place to hide?
Where he learned to play the quiet game, and keep it all inside.
Did he get in the way today, or interrupt his fathers’ nap,
Maybe he was rude to someone, or sat on his favorite cap.
If his worst fears, were no more than tigers or bears,
Why such reason to hide, in the cubby hole under the stairs.
This tiny space, four by four, with a door only two by two,
Became his haven, when afraid, of what his Dad may do.
In time, the stripes would heal, but they forever remain,
To be a shadow reminder, that there is so much to gain,
Living in forgiveness for the man, and love a God who cares.
It was he who was beside me, in the cubby hole under the stairs.
Ronald Lay
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