Posted in Angry, sad

Bitter past

Yesterday I sat on the verandah
A sunny day, carefree,
Ready for a new day, safe behind the walls of the house my father build
Today, I sit confined in strange walls,
The stench of sweat permiates the room
The booming voices of angry men, gunshots popping metres from me
My heart beats so fast, my shaking hands wrapped over my immobile legs
Footsteps walk to the small bed I was thrown on last night
The night and past few hours a blur
I hear screams, more girls are being hurled in
The thin sheet of sweat that has covered my skin from the moment they broke through our home a speck of reality
I’m not home
A tall man enters the room, oneof the many I saw last night
The anger, the confusion and malice in his eyes makes him older though
For a peer he commands more authority as I sit, huddled in the corner
My skirt stained in blood, my blouse torn in places
Booming voices cross the walls, a slap,a shirek.
Sobbing voices mingle with my whimpers, my skin crwals as the man walks closer
My back presses onto the wall even more, begging for it to open up and take mein
Blood shot eyes cage me in as he pushes the hunting gun onto his back and a foot steps on the damaged mattress.
Silent tears stream down my face,
Yesterday I was safe,
Yesterday my family was alive
Yesterday my father smiled at me
Today I shake my head as calloused hands grab for my ankles and pull me towards the devil
The heat of the room, my beating heart my shaking limbs render me numb
“Please,” I beg
I had begged yesterday too, for hours
But his silence seals my fate
He grunts as I kick at him, a sting on my cheek snaps me to the side
“Please,” I beg, just like countless other girls who had been safe yesterday before our village was invaded

That was hours ago
That was days ago
That was months ago
That was a year, two three ten years ago
Right now I’m shaking but I’m shedding that cover
Right now I’m safe
In mY house, in the company of a woman I have told my stories and she has embeaced me
Today I am safe and far away, but others are still captive.

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Author:

Everyone's life view prism is different.

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