The Slipper Poem by Phil Soar

The slipper lay upon the floor
just where father left it
after he had used it to hand out discipline
and the cheeks glowed red
as the rubber left its mark
and the bottom of my heart fell

Love?
If this is love
then my four year old brain cannot equate
why this should leave the hurt
like a tattoo etched on fettered skin
should I be in chains for breaking rules?
they never warned of this in schools

He cares
I know he cares
he shows in other ways he cares
but he keeps this torture hidden
from those who see him as a good man
and only breaks the spell
when rules are broken

And yet I am too young to understand
how love and pain are uniquely joined
how they set themselves apart
and in moments of madness
the hurt becomes a licence
for him to also break the rules
yet no-one disciplines he who perpetrates
and the victim lies crying
for love and understanding