She was sliced and left to bleed,

Her blood painted scars she can’t erase.

Her dreams were held up and left to shatter on her face.

The silence of the night stole her worth,

And escorted her to a play date with sadness.

On that dark, lonely night,

Stuck on the swing between wishes and dreams,

He creeped into her head and jinxed her thoughts.

Charged her of daylight robbery of his sights

And murder of his sanity.

See, before she could utter her word of defense,

Power ruled in his favour,

And so he forced his way into her kingdom.

Knocked down her walls,

And stole her crown.

Tattooed himself inside her womanhood,

And spilled her innocence.

She felt wasted and betrayed,

Cheated and abused.

She felt dirty……used…..broken.

Her hopes came crumbling down on her spirit.

Her pain fueled,

Thoughts stifled,

She’s heard stories of those before her,

She’s heard it all before,

Only this time, she was forced on the ride.

She has been told folktales about her mothers

Mothers who were forced to act out roles they never auditioned for,

Lured into playing victims.

She has heard of her sisters, too

Sisters who were chewed and spat out a zillion times

On whom the weapon of mass reproduction has been tested on,

She has heard these scripted lines before,

She has lived it.

Now she fears for her descendants.

Children who will be told these same folktales.

The ones who will hide behind curtains,

In fear of the torment the night brings forth.

The ones who will live through these same episodes,

But live to hide their truth in every season.

The ones who will blame her and those before her:

For not speaking up,

For accepting to wallow pain,

For being emotional basins

For hiding their truth,

For giving the creep an escape route.

She has developed hate:

For those who will script these lines and force their sisters to breathe life through them,

Experiment on their sisters and make them fear the night.

Those who will be called trash.

She has heard it before,

Lived it all.

Walked on the prints of her ancestors,

And now she presents her trace,

Her story. 


SOURCE: https://thebodyisnotanapology.com/magazine/we-are-a-part-of-a-rapist-nation/


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Thembi Terry's Blog

Live Vicariously


Shattered choices and stained veils. Crossing paths of Islam, Women and Society.


Genesis of a literary awakening, a discovery of self, an affirmation of voice. My whole woman journeys.

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