21st of November, 2024
In shadows deep where secrets reign,
a mother walks through hidden pain,
two small hands to hers held tight,
a weight she bears with all her might.
His words roll forth —a thunder’s roar,
the walls they shake, she shuts the door,
to shield their eyes from worst unseen,
to keep their innocence white and clean.
Still scars run deep through air that’s thin,
each shout, each blow, again, again,
for though she tries to silence the night,
it seeps its way into the light.
Attempts to leave, like paper dreams,
folded fear, bursting seams,
with every plan, the grip grows tight,
a dance of dread that steals her fight.
Then, one day, with courage drawn,
she takes their hands across the lawn,
her heart a drum, her spirit fierce,
she breaks away the locks that pierce.
It’s Christmas now, in a home that’s theirs
no shadows lurk, no whispered fears,
the laughter speckled in squealed delight,
she gathers them up and holds them tight.
Gifts from Aviva, delivered with care,
a reminder of kindness, the love we share,
the joy they bring, each treasure bright,
as twinkling stars fill up the night.
Here’s to mothers, warriors brave,
who rise from the ashes, their children save,
with hearts of hope they pave the way,
to brighter tomorrows, and peace for today.