A smidgeon of success

I finally received my first published work in the post. I've been looking out for it for a month now, barely able to contain my nerves or excitement. So when I got home from work, and found it lying on the bed, it was a bit of an anti-climax. 

My poem, Hurt Me, appears on page 252 of the Poetry Rivals' Collection 2011 - Putting Pen to Paper. I wrote it in one of my darker moments, in a flood of tears, after an incident with my five year old son which left me emotionally crushed. I never thought it would amount to anything, but after positive reviews from my fellow writers and poets at Writewords, my husband suggested that I should enter it in the Poetry Rivals competition. What did I have to lose?

I didn't think it would get anywhere, let alone in one of Poetry Rival's anthologies. I've never been one to write poetry. I like the long haul and the sense of achievement that comes from writing a novel. But here it is. I still find myself welling up when I read it.

Hurt Me

New life begins.
So much hope.
Tiny fingers, toes.
So content.

Five years later.
A child that doesn't understand emotion or pain.
For a second, I fool myself:
Boys take longer.
But when he strikes at me,
It's at my heart.
The boy I brought into this world is lost.
Angry.
Disconnected.
He doesn't know that I love him, what he does.
My dreams and hopes come crashing down.

I don't know
What the future holds,
What he'll become.
But as he gets older,
He'll get stronger.
It scares me,
The teenager inside the boy.

Tears of joy have turned to sorrow.
No matter how much I love him,
He may never understand.
My only son.
My monkey man.
My everything.

Hurt me if you will.
I'll take his pain.
But give him half a chance:
Let him live a normal life.

Free his mind.

Hurt Me.