You abused me when I was four
Uncle Joe.
Does it matter any more
Yes or no?
I carried guilt from that act.
Complicit that’s a fact.
When I revealed
What we concealed
About what had occurred,
They said, “Don’t breathe a word,”
Uncle Joe.

Discomfort remained
Never fully explained.
In time I forgot.
It mattered not a lot,
But today I can see
That what you did to me
Was assault.
Though it wasn’t my fault
I paid the price
By not being very nice
Uncle Joe.

Now you’re no longer here
There is little to fear
So I’ll shout to the sky
The true reason why
I felt I was the least
And turned to a priest
Who said, “Forgive
It’s the right way to live.”
Now all I can say
Is how did you get that way
Uncle Jo?

The answer unknown.
It is I who must atone.
Yet I bear you no ill will
When you died,
Your wife married Bill,
But that’s another story.
Now you’ve all gone to glory?
Well I hope so anyway,
And for this I do pray,
Uncle Joe.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s