They were the perfect couple-attractive, interesting, and successful. Mariah, a beautiful person, took meticulous care of her lovely home. Allen's hobby was making fine furniture, with Mariah consulting on design elements. We visited frequently and always enjoyed relaxing evenings with wonderful friends. Shockingly, however, for Mariah it was different. One evening after dinner, Mariah and I wandered onto the porch while Allen and my husband continued their conversation in the living room. I thanked Mariah for the wonderful dinner and shared my amazement at how beautifully she maintained the house considering her demanding career. "Do you have help?" I asked. A pained expression came over her face as she looked away seemingly to avoid eye contact with me. "Help!!" she quietly exclaimed. "No, I do not have help, I do it all myself, using Allen's vision for the 'perfect home.' You see, for years I have been 'sleeping with enemy.'" Mariah's reference to the film "Sleeping with Enemy," which depicted the struggle of a woman to escape from the constant psychological and physical abuse of a perfectionist husband, took me completely by surprise. With jaw dropped and eyes widened, I lamely responded, "It can't be. Are you serious? How long has this been going on?"

For the next hour, as if some psychological damn had broken, Mariah recounted her years of terror: the verbal abuse when the towels in the linen closet were not in color-coordinated stacks, the physical threats when once she raised the issue of counseling, and the emergency department visit for the broken arm when she was pushed down the stairs. "Twenty six years and no one ever knew, not even the children," Mariah continued with a curious pride. "And, it's not nearly so bad now. I guess we are both mellowing with age and I've learned to live with his bluster."

I had a thousand questions: Why did she stay? How did she cope? Did she really believe that the children never knew? Would she consider leaving now? I never asked them, however. I just listened. And, the listening seemed to be enough for Mariah who needed to tell her story. Our friendship with Mariah and Allen continued for the next few years seemingly unchanged. It was very difficult for me to keep up appearances with Allen knowing what I knew. But I managed since it was important to Mariah.

The Bureau of Justice Statistics 1 documents that in 1998 women in the United States experienced close to 900,000 victimizations at the hands of an intimate including rape, sexual assault, aggravated and simple assault, and robbery. Further 160,000 men were the victims of intimate violence in the same time period. Although the incidence of intimate violent crime is down from 1.1 million in 1993, it remains a serious issue and may again begin to rise as the economy worsens. Violence against children and older adults also are serious societal problems.

The theme of this issue, domestic violence, addresses not only the effect on victims and families but also how practitioners screen, intervene, and cope. The two poems get to the emotional heart of this devastating problem.

On September 11, 2001 as students, faculty, and staff gathered around the television to watch the attacks on New York and Washington, DC, I experienced that "lump-in-the-throat" feeling. I watched how others responded to the terrorism-gasps, hands to the head in protective gestures, tears, escape from the room, and cries of "Oh my God!" The entire country has experienced the ultimate in domestic violence, which in some way might help us to appreciate the daily terror felt by so many, especially the women, children, and older adults who live with abuse, who live constantly with a "lump in the throat."

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