What the adult knows
Spiritual food with Jess – Mon September 28, 2026
The house was always too loud,
a cyclone trapped inside a “home.”
Thundering words shook me from within,
leaving imprints within my frame.
Secrets were screamed into the street,
as if some part of me was always hoping
the neighbours would hear,
would call,
would come.
I remember the sting of his hands,
the pain of his belt across my little body,
the welts from the extension cord
and the ache of the word “No.”
I learnt to become numb to the pain.
My truth was silenced by violence.
I was never believed.
I was never right.
I was always told I was wrong.
But I remember my own voice, too,
small, trembling, but fierce.
It echoed from the one place
where I still felt brave:
standing beneath …. legs,
a tiny soul made of hope,
screaming at the giant to stop,
as the tears rolled down my face
I watched his hands close around her neck.
I watched the violence spill onto others.
I carried those moments long after they ended,
memories that won’t leave me,
memories that make my body shake
and steal my sleep in the quiet dark.
At that age,
I didn’t understand.
I wore that question like a scar:
What did I do to deserve this?
But today,
the adult me knows the answer.
I did nothing.
I was just a child.
And in the deepest part of the night,
when the house finally fell quiet,
the mattress would gently shift.
I would wake to find …. there,
seeking refuge in my narrow bed,
leaving the darkness behind his door.
Lying beside each other in the silence,
two trapped people
lost in a restless sea,
waiting for morning to come,
knowing that with the light
the giant would return
and the cyclone would start all over again.
Isaiah 41
Isaiah 41:13 NLT
[13] For I hold you by your right hand— I, the Lord your God. And I say to you, ‘Don’t be afraid. I am here to help.