The Smell of Fear, by Marvin Wade

For her it's the aroma of coffee
brewing in the morning before school.
A dreaded smell.
She knows so well.
It means he's near.

Eyes closed under her covers
as she prays today daddy won't appear.
That scent present in his breath as he enters her bed.
She pleads out her questions to him.
Begs him for the answers.
But he can't make this right.
He can't make any sense of this.

After this, she'll never be the same.
Only to forever be the same missing child
at the age of 12.
Lost and abused in her own home.
No help from Momma to find her way.
Momma handicapped.
Though her vision intact.
Just blind to these facts.
But I mean she dealing with her own drama. Her own trauma.

No excuse.
Just life's truth.
But for shortie she's no use.
So now it's off to school.
A place of refuge in some sense.
She'd rather sit depressed
in her homeroom
than sit with stress in her own room.

Despite it all, she still maintained her A's and B's
while on her P's and Q's in the face of grown folks.
Easily explaining her black and blues.
Cause see they love this man more than she do.

They would never believe the preacher packed a punch.
Only that he packs her lunch.
What a great man they tell her.
Now stay off that bike for a couple of days
so your wounds can heal.

But she's scarred for life.
Many years before those wounds are sealed.

They knew what they were seeing in her eyes
despite her lies.
She didn't want to tell on this man.
Her father.
The preacher.

She had hoped someone would hug it out of her.
Hold her through it.
Protect her from him. But no one did any of these things. Instead they looked passed her sighs and signs.
Just to protect his fate.
In the name of faith.
He's a man of God.
In church every day.
She an above average student
struggling to find
her way.

It was a no brainer for the teachers and congregation
in choosing a side.
He made it easy for them not to think of her pain.
Not to think of her suffering.
Not to think of their obligations to her.
He held a bible in his hand as he spoke.

She on the other hand
held nothing but schoolbooks and a rope.
Came close one night, if not for hope.

And now you're here.
Traveled a long way to this day.
Ready to reveal your story to your peers.
Knowing many won't believe.
Preparing to hear them scream,
she's lying!
How dare she try to bring down this great man.

My Queen, don't allow them to deter you.
To detour you.
You've made it despite their failure to have your back.
Your words will never reach their ears.
So just give them the John Cena hand gesture.
Shit, they couldn't even see you then.
Your message ain't for them.
It's for those whose thunder is too many miles away to be heard.
Whose tears are too light to be seen in the dark.
For those whose stains were wiped clean
as though nothing ever happened.

But you give them a voice.
You give them light.
You give them a space and a platform to speak their truth.
And although your disdain for the smell of coffee remains
at least you can breathe
once again.

Marvin Wade is a Spiritual Activist and Family Man, born and raised In Brooklyn, NY. Marvin joined the Re/Creation Bed-Stuy writing workshop in 2019, after participating in a writing class held in Queensboro correctional facility by Professor Joni Schwartz and joining the group upon his release after 25 years. While incarcerated, Marvin wrote multiple books worth of stories, novels, and personal essays on every bit of paper he could find, combining his gift as a storyteller with the art of writing. As part of the re/creation workshop, Marvin has had numerous Dispatches that he's written appear on the website. From titles such as, "The conditioned state of America " to "Time and Prison, are they mutually exclusive?" His poem “Where I’m From” is featured in Voices of Fortune 2020 literary magazine. Marvin also participated in the "We choose to bloom" film as part of a joint venture between Fortune Society and MOMA. Look for many great things both literary and spiritual from Mr. Marvin Wade.