Remember My Name
by Angela Nuzzo
We are thousands,
who have lost our lives on the home-front
in a battle being waged behind closed doors.
Our names are listed on a website,
in a roll-call of the dead.
We were wives controlled by threats,
who couldnt leave our children.
Girlfriends too insecure to know
that force does not mean loving.
Mothers who escaped a marriage,
only to find that evil in the next generation.
Husbands who stayed from shame,
but would never think to fight back.
Lovers who feared the system
much more than their abuser.
Grandmothers who were too dependent
and taught that wives dont leave.
Teenagers who protected their family,
but were no match for that fist.
Children that were withdrawn at school,
whos eyes showed too much pain.
Babies, whos lives cut short
will never speak their own name.
Remember us as you sit in bed reading,
as you eat lunch tomorrow afternoon.
Remember us when you shop for groceries,
walk the dog, or mow the lawn.
Remember us we thousands
listed in this roll-call of the dead.
Remember the names of the fallen,
whether they be Kishas, Ruths, or Johns.
Author's Note: I wrote this for a poetry slam that was held to raise awareness of Domestic Violence. On the website www.ncadv.org there is a national registry of names of people who have died from domestic violence. It is called Remember My Name. The lists go on & on. It is heartbreaking.
Posted on 10/18/2007
Copyright © 2023 Angela Nuzzo
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Michelle Angelini on 10/19/07 at 05:08 PM|
Angela, what an excellent memoriam for those who have crossed the rainbow bridge - sadly - let us hope that their lives will not have been in vain - that if their stories saves just one woman, one child, one baby, one animal (who are also victims), then they can look down from heaven, that their angels look over those who are still in the trap of domestic abuse. You've touched my heart and emotions here with your caring words and message.
|Posted by Keith McFarlane on 02/11/08 at 04:46 PM|
Such a depressing collection of circumstances, many happening in the house next door in cozy suburban neighborhoods. The 2nd stz. has the effect of successive punches to the gut, so raw and blunt...very well done and a tribute to this cause.
|Posted by A. Paige White on 06/05/12 at 03:08 PM|
I worked at a domestic violence shelter for two years and saw some very heartbreaking things. It was what it was doing to the children that broke my heart most of all. Beautiful poem about a horrific problem.