He Raised His Hand

His father,
Lived before him,
In times of female discrimination,
Yet he warned him,
-A man who raises his hand,
To hit a woman,
Lays down his manhood-
He followed,
Obeyed,
All through teen age,
When hormones and decisions race,
He kept his cool.

Then he found the one,
Companion,
One to share house and bed,
One to share a name and offspring,
One to love till breath stalled.

He gave her love,
She gave him her heart,
They lived,
Smiles and frowns,
Chuckles and tears,
Muffled curses sometimes,
Kids around the house,
Dinners out
Weekend barbecues,
It was a marriage,
A bond,
Sacred,
Blessed.

Then one day,
He came at eve,
Red eyes,
Light brain,
His breathe was a carton of spirit fumes.

He saw her,
Her once pampered face,
Looked like a sack
Begging for a punch,
Her once curvy figure,
Perky chest mounds,
Ones he once loved to caress and massage,
Now looked like fists,
A threat to his very existence,
He called her - a bitch.

He felt offended,
She saw death,
She was helpless,
She wondered what was wrong,
He felt everything was wrong,
Not the bad day he had had,
But whatever was in his eyes.

Raised his hand,
And slapped her,
She moved back,
Reflexive defence,
Commotion,
Tears,
Curses,
Threats,
Begs,
Regrets,
Pain,
Kitchen,
She grabbed a knife,
He swept her off,
Stumbles,
Bang!
Clang!
Knife kissed heart,
Uh! Stalled breathe,
She kissed the kitchen floor,
And it welcomed the blood flow,
She was no more.

He sobered up,
Eyes wide,
Adrenaline,
Regrets,
He grabbed the knife,
Tears in his eyes,
Closed them,
Ready to take his life,
"Dad!", their son called.