Sometimes, when they say; “it’s ok now,” I don’t believe them. I still feel scared.

Sometimes, I get worried that the monster might come back.

Sometimes, when Mummy says, “Have good dreams” I don’t. I dream of him.

Sometimes, I get really angry and can’t control my hands or feet.

Sometimes, I cry. I don’t even know why. It seems to make them cross.

Sometimes, when people shout, even if they’re playing, I don’t have time to find a toilet.

I wish I could explain that I don’t mean to make them cross.

I wish I could explain that I don’t mean to be so naughty.

I wish I could explain that my thoughts feel all confused.

I wish I could explain that I still see his hands around your neck.

But I am only small.

Please hear me in my actions.

This poem is based on the shared experience of many of the child clients I have worked with who have witnessed domestic abuse. However, the question raised is relevant to all children.

If behavior is communication, what do you hear?