Three days ago he beat me

Now with roses at my bedside
He whispers to me gently
Running his fingers through my hair,

With the same hands
That had been clenched around my
Throat

The same hands
That held the bottle for our baby

The same hands
That once held mine in a marriage vow

The same hands clenched
Had broken my nose

The hands that
Hung up the phone
When friends and family
Called for me

Hands that held me up
When my sister died

Hands that grabbed me jealously

The hands
Dripping with
Blood and kindness

Hands that want to
Claim my body

Cringing
I pray to God
Oh, no!"

--Eileen Hudon in Sojourner Shelter Newsletter