So honored and delighted to have this poem published in the ‘Woman Inc Poetry Project’ today! Thank you, Pooja Garg Singh, editor of WIPP and my fellow writer friend, for this. Do visit Issue 1: Nov-Dec 2014 of the online magazine dedicated to the journey of woman through the art of poetry:
Purveyors of sin, let me close my eyes and drift off to my own shadows.
The sun doesn’t have enough radiance for this crescent night to fade away.
You pounce on my blindfolded body, lusting over my flesh,
Your filth, saliva and masculinity trickling down my skin,
Skittering across my face.
I am a maimed, deformed corpse, an unrecognizable mass
That you trample away in the blinding traffic of the day.
In the dark, thick smoke of death,
The world will come to mourn my impending doom,
Snip me of my pride, screams and sobs ripping up the air.
Whom will I tell that not my body, not my female organs,
But my heart, my being, my conscience
Has been dug into, cut open, beaten up?
I lay hapless and worn, the scars in my soul
Infected with the germs of your horrendous crimes,
Falling off the precipice of your lustful minds.
Let my wordless mouth shut by your filthy, hurtful hands
Plunge from this deep, dark abyss
To a world of light and sanity,
Where I can reach out and shout.
I need to shout and give vent to my scars,
I need to pour out like a rainbow in pain.
I need to dance again in the radiance of the sun,
I need to bleed again, as the wounds seep into me.
Purveyors of sin, cut me open, and crush me again,
In the deadly alleys of the night.
I am but a dissected wound, lying on this cold bed of humanity,
Pounce upon me again, in the ignorant darkness of your lust.
P.S. The inspiration of this poem came from one of my longer personal essays about the experience of sexual abuse in India. The essay has been published in a blogazine named ‘Incredible Women of India’ and it is a pleasure to share with you the link below. Read on: