Amidst the Scars





Sitting beside the safe space of an open fire,
I put up the question that nobody dared to ask her,
‘Why are you afraid of the shining diskette?’

 

She felt the insurgent heat building up and she hid it,
Beneath the loose fabric of her most loathed dress.
As if answering my question would strip her naked again,
With her bare limbs against the screeching wooden board.

 

She wouldn’t make up her mind to confess unseen parts of her then,
If it hadn’t been for that single question,
For she no longer could perpetrate the fragility and chasm of her soul;
The perennial ache, that left her miserably insane, was now inadmissible.

 

I saw her biting the tip of her tongue mistakenly,
Hoping that I could save her anyhow from the illicit world she resided in.
She struggled to swim to the surface, whereas earlier she had tried to drown
In a charade of her desolate realism; words were delusional.

 

Head down, hands folded, she bit her lips, ready to speak.

 

‘His eyes used to shine like those silver disks,
Crafted smoothly against the rough terrain of his face,
Which played nothing but the broken tracks handsomely
Such that I would forget the fear proliferating inside my chest.’

 

I knew she was talking about the guy she had trusted and loved,
by the melody of her tune that had rung inside her vein.
However when her words started quivering and lips trembled,
She would be crying rainstorms now, my intuition shouted.

 




‘It wasn’t how he told me it would happen.
I never wanted to shut my eyes and open my thighs, and so he forced me:
To an extent that drew blood to my tasteless bud.
I lay there lifeless, staring at the noose that hung my faith in him.’

 

‘He had locked me in his cupboard for five hours,
My mouth taped shut, hands tied; I’d never been so scared.
But for once, I felt safer there and never thought I would pray to stay barred.
I wished its doors would never open to those two monstrous eyes.’

 

‘Do you need to know more?’ she inquired, looking at our single reflection in the mirror.
I gave her a convincing look to which she could unravel herself more.
That was the time I wanted her to embrace me and be us with all our stains
Since I was her oblivious shadow that sometime faced her through the glass.

 

‘People were curious, how was this bruise made?
Told them, I slipped on the bathroom floor.
Why this extra bleeding? Oh! Mother nature.
Why this limping? Oh! Fractured a bone.’

 

‘Morons, can’t they guess what must have happened?
Can’t they see the reason behind my diminishing health?
So folks, please deduce that my world is collapsing beneath this dress,
There’s nothing left inside for me to fill, because I was raped by my own disguised love.’

 

You should not hold yourself guilty for what had happened,
You won a fight that he had lost, between closed doors, you survived.
‘But my rapist still resides in my nerves. Each night he plays the same song
Until I cry myself to sleep to the wake of the morning.’

 

But maybe, your rape could have been escaped, had you known the difference
between silence and approval, for silence does not necessarily mean consent.
Now you should teach your children that sexual abuse shouldn’t be silenced.
Stand up lady, do not shed more tears; Karma will teach him a lesson.

 

‘I am wiping my tears for you. I have to live for you.
My past cannot be altered, but I can look for a better future.
I hope one day there is no news of rape.’
Yes. For a world, free of harassment , Stop is a word everybody knows well.

 

 


Image Source: Flickr.com


 


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