In the early hours of the night,
My bruised feet carried me home,
Through a path that goes home from the Forrest.
As I led the goats home.
Unbothered,
I walked at a slower pace,
Not caring about the worse that could possibly happen.
After all,
I am a free born of my mother's land.
Who would have known,
That as dusty as I was,
Somebody eyed me.
A girl so dirty and covered by dust,
From wrestling with the goats in my Gogo's goatshed.
I smelled of goat milk,
Ricked of my own urine and sweat.
But yet someone eyed me,
A life that lived only for seven years.
No mother, no father, no elder brother
To shild and protect me.
Just me and a grandmother that wasn't even mine.
Some boy I called brother,
Had eyes on my little under developed body,
A body so shapeless and under fed, that
My ribs outlined clearly on my skin,
Barely giving support to my kwashiorkor belly.
But I guess seven was older.
Under the glowing moon
I got ripped off what would be my pride,
Stripped of my dignity, and
A weapon for my confidence,
In the times of my youth.
I didn't know much,
But something told me it was wrong.
That, I would be condemned for
A sin where I am a victim.
And that name calling awaits me.
Because apparently, seven is older.
That, that was the moment I grew up.
Thought beyond seven,
And I got me a corner to hide,
My circle only contained of me,
No friends, just me alone
To live my life of shame and strife.
Because fear hushed my mouth
And left my lips shut.
So that no one would ever know.
A rearrange childhood,
And at times,
I called it fate.
A life, where,
Not a single soul would likely dwell.
But that became of me,
A captured orphan
With no possible way to escape.
The secret that tore me up inside.
Haunting me with dark memories
And making me wish I had died,
Along with my mother at birth,
But instead,
I breathed air into my lungs,
Just to taste a world so ruthless and cruel.
And darkness veiled everywhere.
I am scared to express the horror I went through,
But I still remember being,
Pinned on the cold ground.
Under a tree that heard my agony,
But it did nothing, because,
The universe has no say,
And so does nature.
With his cold touch like that of venom,
He injected filth and dirt into me,
And my blood boiled in vain
Hopelessly,
All I could do was cry,
Letting tears draw pain on my face,
And hope that time will wash the picture away.
As I grew,
I learned that,
Every rape poem is the same,
Hurt, bruised and broken girls, that
Still see their shadows in the shade.
And still dream of running and hiding.
Taking their voices with them,
Never to be heard or seen again.
©me.just.me
M