OF THE SPACES WE CALLED SAFE
(A poem on the plight of the girl child facing the trauma of rape)
Yesterday night, his shadow peered into my chamber
I had vowed to crush him into powder with my teeth
But I found myself helpless under his forceful grip again.
He was soon guised in an apparel of sobriety
And recited a creed of pleas into my ears
Promising never to commit such act again
But echoes of his last pleas betrayed him.
Like other times, I became a crystal ripped of lustre
Sores spattered my soul, refusing to heal.
Dragging myself to the bathtub,
I stooped to wash my linen,
My tears streaming into the basin, bleaching the smeared seams.
This was the one hundredth time.
Who will hearken to my cry
And give me wings to fly
Who will rescue me from this arena of woes
Into the city of refuge
Far away from the agony induced by uncle’s fangs.
Let my voice be as siren of an ambulance.