POETRY CORNER
HUSH Tracey Kotzen
Don’t let me tell you who your husband really is Hush! Pretend to be asleep, that’s him coming up the stairs. Shhhh…. breathe softly Don’t let him know that you really are awake Don’t let him see you move or blink Hush… please don’t tell my mother how I got this bruise. Don’t tell her how this man can use his shoes- She says one smack, one kick is not abuse Roses bloom across your face scattered freely from forehead to chin. Blossoming in crimson shades, and turning slowly to colours a rose has never been, Purple - Blue - Green
Interview with the Poet
Tell us a bit about yourself
I am a sexual abuse survivor so it's little wonder that I am also a lifelong activist for healing and social justice. Once upon a time I was a trauma counsellor but now, through Gods grace, I look after the Mental Wellness Initiative and I'm back at school doing a Masters degree in social impact assessment. I have one husband, two sons and two dogs.
What inspired this poem?
I have not directly been a victim of domestic violence in my intimate relationships but I did grow up in a household where it happened frequently and severely. As a child I'd often wonder why my mom remained in that situation and this poem reflects some of my speculation on what may have been happening for her. She always seemed to be in conflict with different parts of her belief system. Just to note that we have no mystery babies in the family! I used that as a metaphor for all the things we try and protect inside ourselves as womxn.
Hush, don’t tell him that’s not his baby in that bed. Last June I sought solace with another man instead. Don’t tell him that the baby’s isn’t his Please…. Keep my secrets, please don’t tell
If he knew he would unleash all the hounds of hell. Ripe fruit in sunset shades would grow and swell. We never must tell.
Be quiet now. Go away, Tiptoe softly. Close the door gently. Hush, Don’t tell me who my husband really is
What do you hope to achieve by sharing your poetry?
I would like other womxn to be encouraged to find creative ways to express themselves. I found writing and other creative outlets very helpful for my own healing; and, of course to be reminded that they (we) are not alone.
Mascara and some lipstick- That’s him coming up the stairs.
22 | Collective Action Magazine
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