How many days again?
How many nights of pain?
How many drops of rain?
I never knew how long,
It felt like like an eternity of horror,
A heart break would have been a blessing
A bullet in my head was my prayer
But I was still aware, dead inside
A torn piece of flesh
Becoming a living tragedy.
How many jumped on me days and nights?
No memory, just devils on top of me,
Their deadly weapon digging inside me!
Their chain of horror de- womanizing my body,
Call me a thing! A hole! A whore!
But never call me a woman again.
How many of us ?
mothers, daughters , grandmothers,
Assaulted one by one
By five, ten of them maybe dozens!
Devils:
Filled with hate!
Drunk with madness!
Drugged by power!
Power over powerless women!
Power of their guns!
Phallic Power!
Pounding tirelessly our intimacy,
the origin of their humanity!
If they had been humans once!
Call us mops, things, holes,
but never name us
Mother, Darling, Sister, Daughter,Grandma.
Just broken bodies
With dead souls
And torn hopes
Each assault :
a stab in our womanity,
a disgrace to our womb,
a crime against humanity.
No more tears to cry,
No more strenght to try
Just our hearts so dry
Missing the aching of my first time
When I was still a woman ,
Missing the pain of excision
When I lost my childhood!
Missing the griefs of countless miscarriages
Missing the suffering my mother’s death brought to me
Short of pains to remember, we silently bear the endless movements going through our flesh
I lost my voice in the air trying to shout my hate, to name my pain.
And then all I can see is them:
Furaha lost her life because of her frail body, 10 years old and raped by 10 men !
Malaika killed her child to protect her from the rapes,
Amina got Aids
How many names can I remember?
Just faces grimacing with pain, death,
Lost souls with dreams buried alive
Just returning from a journey to Hell
The devils left open scars in our hearts, souls and bodies ,
Invisible Scars that might never heal!
How many nightmares to face,
Before being able to say a word
To sketch a smile,
To be Alive without being just a Zombi,
To deserve the name woman again?
Break the Silence to heal our scars
Break the Silence to soothe our pain.
Related Posts via Taxonomies
Comments
naboulove @naboulove
I am mother, an entrepreneur, a blogger, a panafrican & a passionate writer.Go to naboulove's profile, and read more of his/her posts.
Although one gets tired of reading of rape and the other dastardly acts on women …
This, however is beautifully written.
Ow! The throes of inhuman acts….
God have mercy,….
Beautiful @naboulove.
Pain is pain, and it lingers on so long the suffering continues to be inflicted.
Well done.
Thanks so much @kaycee this is happening everyday in DRC where I live, sometimes the reality passes the news…
@Charles yes indeed … sometimes atrocities are committed in the Almighty’s name thanks a lot for passing by
@babyada soo true pain is pain…thanks a lot
@naboulove, this is powerful. I feel the anger and the hurt in this. Well done.
As for structure, I think it could be tighter maybe. But still, the message is very clear. This is good. And searing.
tHANKS @guywriterer especially on the structure, since am francophone trying to improve my english overall writing. mercii
The pain, hurt and all is felt in this piece..and that makes it a good one..Well done…$ß.
Thanks @sybbilwhyte
The heinous crime of rape unfortunately is still looked upon by some as a crime of sex. Rape is not about sex but the diseased brain and psyche of the animals who perpetuate these assaults.
Every hair on my body raised and tingled with repulse as I read this piece…Your words stung like a daggers tip Naboulove, you captured the
hopelessness of victims.
Well analyzed my sister … and it is happening just right here every day in Africa
hmmmm…what more can i say…well delivered, incisive and chilly….rape…only God will judge those monsters and assuage the violated