No Safe Place

No Safe Place

by Glenda Beall

I check the locks, front door, glass doors downstairs.
I’m beginning to remember your ritual every night.
You, the man I trusted to keep us safe in this,
our house, our bed. With you slumbering beside me,
you’d hear what we should fear before I was aware.
You’d know what to do, and you would use a gun if necessary.
Your pistol still lies in the bedside drawer.
The old dog, hearing worse than mine,
snores on our bed. Awake, alone
at three a.m., I fear no stranger lurking in the dark.
No firearm, locks or barking dog can save me
from the endless grief that stalks me in this house.


Founder of Coffee with the Poets and the Writers Circle, Glenda Beall is the author of Now Might As Well Be Then.  She lives in Hayesville, NC.

5 thoughts on “No Safe Place

  1. The beauty of the rhythm of these lines blends exquisitely with the raw directness of the total poem. Glenda, I salute you.

  2. You are so open with your feelings and write beautifully. I can relate to this poem. It packs a punch in such a precise way.

  3. Hi Karen and Joan,
    Sorry to be so long in responding. I appreciate very much your comments. Knowing that we all have so much in common, I am glad you relate to this poem. It does speak of my deepest feelings, Karen. I think I am learning how to share them.

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