I crush her spirit into a tight tangled ball of mess as I thrust her into hands of frustration which hunger for hurt in this hour. Every exchange brings piercing pain which leaves an ugly mark as lifelines are cut short. She resists the rattling of my ridicule, so I fling her to the floor with a venomous hiss as this pathetic woman is a pure joke. She lands in fourth place to the triangle to mark a square within the room. I laugh at her once pure porcelain flesh as it heats to bright red. She cowers in her corner of sorrow clinging to dear life in the hope her saviour from within will make an appearance as I suck every piece of joy from her being.  And still she shows no fight as your sun peaks through filthy panes to ricochet rainbow rays of light around the room to heal her dark halo to a yellowish orange hue while I beat her body to black and blue. 

 

Air in, air out, I breathe a sigh of relief as feelings of frustration come to pass but guilt crawls out of her battered corner in excruciating pain in search of sanctuary as the past tells her it is over for now, flowers begging for forgiveness will soon be delivered to her doorstep. Heavy am I, the cross, she carries on her back because of a vow of non-complete on my behalf. Mine are the only tears today as her well is dry, my sobbing comes with words of blame buried beneath a half-ass apology and promises of change. She is beyond believing my string of lies and is quick to accept my sorry as her only priority is the three o’clock pick-up from school.  Bruises are due soon as blood vessels are broken from impact. She hides her visible hurt with adequate applications of foundation, concealer, sunglasses, and long sleeve jumpers on a summer day to fool the car park parents. But the invisible hurt is building a sizeable sum in her bank account to take her out of the red and into the black. I hang my head in shame in the knowing she suffers much abuse at the hands of this man because I lost my temper over a misdemeanour and she is the price to pay. 

 

Our daughter on the ground gives us a glimpse into the life of a woman who feels man's wrath on any given day, the misery women suffer at the hands of men varies in extremes. Her scenario has my husband and son reeling in the room but when our daughter puts the fault not only at the feet of the devil but also at her fathers, they fly off the handle as they threaten her with punishment for such insubordination. She stands her ground in her belief and tells them to think long and hard on their reaction to her words as it is a mirror image of God Almighty's temper tantrum toward Eve in Eden. And man is made in your image, right? And only man, not woman according to your Holy Bible which strokes the snake of the male ego giving permission to such vile behaviour in your image, monkey see, monkey do, Adam see, Adam do.  And on and on we go through the test of time until we bear witness to the birth of Satan's spawn known as misogyny. 

 

The truth hurts but I am here, and these are my findings.

 

Jesus, you are a better male role model than our father, but your recruitment style leaves a lot to be desired with twelve men at the top table.

 

Where are the women? 

 

And your mammy or the village bike don't count.

 

What about the disciple I loved the most?

 

Who would that be, brother? 

 

John. 

 

Jesus don't get me started on the whole John the beloved disciple debacle. 

 

Children, enough with your bickering. 

 

Joseph the carpenter, the keeper of his wife's secret was truly a great man but unfortunately such grace only comes with maturity, if we could bottle the essence of this man of patience and wisdom to poison these men of misogyny who appear to lack any love for women, children, and men of goodness. 

 

What would their mothers think? 

 

Shame and embarrassment, that's what.

 

They would wonder where the Josephs in the world are gone who fought shoulder to shoulder with the Marys and their children for peace and harmony. 

 

I always knew you had a soft spot for him

 

What? says mother to father.

 

Did you sleep with him?

 

God Almighty! screams Mother. 

.

You were supposed to be my immaculate virgin, faithful in body and spirit to me forever, your sole purpose here was to just give birth to me so I could be KING. You are mine and mine only. It was not part of our plan for you to fall in love with some two by four handy man who looks like Father Christmas. Mother gently removes herself with her rosaries from the inferno known as the fear of God. We bear witness to his aggression as history repeats itself.  Our Mother’s angel wings open wide to signal her children to seek shelter within her embrace as all hell is about to break loose within the room.  Our Fathers’ fury is unsurmountable in comparison to past occurrences as he feels my betrayal ergo Mother’s betrayal because the daughter is of the mother as the son is of the father, the one in being. Tables turn with groans of aggression as delph smashes to smithereens on the ground with pieces of plate flying like deadly weapons of destruction.  Mother turns her back to the devilish monster who lives within father as he wreaks havoc on our home. 

 

As young children we hid in her arms as she took the blows on our behalf without a word in response to the insults he hurls.  She stays still like a statue but in her silence, she says a prayer to him and ten for us in the hope, we make it through to the glory be.  This blessed among women who keeps us safe as cups fly like weapons of war and hit hard against the wall overhead which may lead to our demise. But I don't fear death in these moments of mass destruction because I'm in the loving arms of our mother who will protect us in this world and the next.

 

Our Father's anger subsides.  

 

Our Father rests. 

 

Our Mother rests. 

 

The clean-up begins.

 

My brother and I, take a hold of the table ends to lift it back into its pride of place at the heart of the home, the four chairs now standing to complete the set, ready for its patrons to come back to the kitchen table for tea but no talk. As there is never talk after the terror. But first we must wipe the crime scene clean of evidence over right a visitor calling unannounced because God forbid the neighbours would catch wind of our dirty little secret behind closed doors. Brushes and shovels on the ready to clean the rubble. The bigger segments of tea stain cups are hand-picked for the bin, while the rest are taken out by the stroke of a brush. Each broken piece of pottery feels like a fragment of our childhood innocence lost in the debris; the visible are quickly dealt with accordingly but the invisible yet visible minuet grains get lost in the cracks of the grout until the next violent outbreak. The grains gather after each episode of his grievance until the daughter outshines her parents to become the guardian angel of the family. 

 

My words of blame cut deep with my father. He is clearly hurt from my betrayal. But he did put his hand out for the truth slap when he sent me here to gather intelligence on the downfall of believers. If he wanted a YES man, he should have sent his son again.  But he chose the apple thief to investigate the shift.  Why?  Because I do not fear him with my honesty as it is for the greater good. My words may appear disrespectful but from bad will come good change. 

 

The Word of God is no longer relevant for the modern woman. Women today are a working assumption. And for the record, my father has never laid a finger on our Mother, but the threat of physical violence is just as harmful to the wellbeing of a woman and her children. Our Mother is an obedient wife who bends to our father's will as tradition has taught her to be dutiful but this daughter of modern-day wonders if such pandering to Padre led him and his son to believe their coercive control is acceptable in this day and age. 

 

Our Mother Mary was born immaculate without original sin, making her an exception to the rule but the modern Mary should not be held to her standards. Nor should we be belittled because men of misogyny deep down feel inferior to their counterparts. 

 

And let’s call a spade a spade, these men of misogyny (MOM) are violent abusers, rapists, and murderers. No more niceties in calling their dirty deeds merely acts of sexual assault as MOMs clearly see political correctness as a foreign concept, so, why are we foolishly giving them such courtesies by softening the labels on their crimes while adding insult to the injury of their victims and families who will suffer a life sentence because of these filthy animals.

 

Women are walking away; the givers of life are walking away and when the woman walks away from the home there is no home. This is Gods' greatest fear hence the purpose of my visit. This is also man's greatest fear, but he doesn't know how to resolve it without beating a woman into submission.  

 

One must wonder if Adam ate the apple first would he hold the knowledge today to find the answers to his frustrations instead of always using his fists to gain power by way of brute force.  Most MOM influencers are keyboard warriors who never get their hands dirty as they are sneaky and only spew their vile hate over the worldwide net while others who are stupid enough to take their word as gospel are brainwashed into believing their web of lies and unfortunately act upon them to end life. MOM influencers and their followers will perish on the same hellish rock of guilt because one is the same as the other in Gods' eyes. 

 

I am resting in another room but still I hear my daughter's words of reproach rattling around in my head. I never thought I would see the day when my little helper would go above and beyond to pass every filial piety test thrown at her. It has taken its toll but still she has proven to be a law unto herself. I love her tenacity and curiosity, qualities of a great creator which stuns but shouldn't surprise me as she is her father's daughter. She is the yin to the yang of my son who is obedient to a fault like his mother. My daughter and I constantly butt heads because we are so alike, and I deeply admire her honesty to admit woman's mistake in Eden but I also admire her quick wit to challenge my quick-tempered nature as the core cause of the long-standing feud between woman and the devil.  The devil exists today in the form of a cult called misogyny which commits assault on philogyny which is a direct assault on me and my love for the women in life.

 

Bless me, daughter, for I have sinned and when you absolve me from my sins, my act of contrition will be to make right this wrong.

 

I absolve you. 

 

Bless me, Mother and Father, for I have sinned, these are my sins........ 

 

Mother and Father? interrupts Our Father. 

 

'The fifth' says I. 

 

'The fifth!' says he. 

 

'The fifth commandment' 

'Honour thy mother and thy father, that thy days may be long upon the land which thy Gods giveth thee.' 

 

The fifth commandment or as I like to call it, the first vow for a change to Gods' Word because it has always been two Gods in ONE and ONE without the other is null and void. 

 

'Amen to that' 

 

'Awomen' Says I with a cheeky grin. 

 

'Oh Lord.'

 

'Oh Lady.' Says I.

 

Power of the word has gone to your head. 

 

'You better believe it' Says I. 

 

Our Father just laughs at my sassiness. 

 

I smile in the knowing. 

 

In the knowing I am made in God's image. 

 

In more ways than one. 

 

Our sense of humour is high on the list. 

 

Because Our Father has a wicked sense of humour. 

 

As do I. 

 

'You always have to have the last word.' 

 

‘I do’ says I. 

 

I smile a smile only a daughter can smile at her father as he knows he only has a son until he takes a wife, but he has a daughter for LIFE. 

 

‘Awaken your mother within as it's time to put John’s Revelation of the Bride into play.’ 

 

‘Will do’ says I.