Inspiration
can catch you at the oddest, most unexpected places. So, for someone as
irreligious (is that even a word?!) as me, it was a wonder to have found my
next muse in spiritual text!
The
Bible recounts that before his death on the cross, Jesus said 7 things - he
mourned to his Father (why have you forsaken Me?), spoke to his mother (Mother,
behold, your son!), lamented his thirst and pain ("I thirst" and
"It is finished"). And, through these words I was able to see the
plight of a girl child. From her birth, through adolescence, marriage and even
in death, the life of some women is nothing short of a daily crucifixion.
And,
I call this one,
The
Crucifixion of Innocence
There
was a lot of screaming,
like
someone in pain
I
felt a slight sensation
which
awakened me
and
my shrill cries drowned all the other sounds
the
hum of the machines
my mother’s
heavy breathing
the murmurs of
the medicine men
I
continued hailing my own arrival
even
as the remnants of womb,
the
rubble of my old home were cleaned off
my
shriveled body
My
sobs muted only with the pink linen
that
was wrapped around me
reminding
me of the warmth that once was
Carried
from light to light,
Down
a grey-green corridor
presented
before a man
I
look up, curiously, sniffle,
and
hope that my watery eyes
convey
my trust
“Into
your hand I commend my life”
I
say with every blink of my lids
And,
a cold stare greets me
One
look at the pink fabric
and
my red face
My
Father turns away,
and
as he walks away
his
words echo in the halls,
“it
is finished” he sighs.
I
am thirsty.
Always
parched.
Always
hankering for more.
More
words to learn. More lines to read.
not
for the dull dolls,
and
the hand-me-down pities
but
more dewdrops to touch, butterflies to catch.
More
raindrops to drench myself and
camouflage
the tears.
for
more love or attention,
for
at least just an acknowledgement
“My
father, my father, why have you forsaken me?”
I
weep at nights,
and
in the dull lights of dusk,
I
see hatred gleam in his smile
Hidden
away in dark rooms and
behind
curtains
my
childhood passes by
Ill-fitting
clothes hide
my
blossoming body
But
his hands still find every contour
tracing
the fullness of youth
unwillingly
molding to heat and hardness
I
don’t know enough words that can
describe
the feelings together of
shame,
pain, pleasure and pain
that
rip through my body
Sensation
through every nerve
telling
me that I am now
a
woman
Dear
woman, here is your son,
the
one you always wished for,
I
say to mother, as a resigned bride,
may
this marriage bring you more happiness
than
my birth did
A
dot marks my forehead now
as
red as the welts in my hand
deep
in shade as the stains
on
my bed each night
You
will be with me in paradise
my
mother promises me
as
she holds me
soothing
me like she never did before
caressing
my face
wiping
away tears that have long stopped flowing
Scars
mar my hands and feet
that
were once decorated to celebrate my womanhood
My
core hurts and burns with each touch
“Girl,
forgive them, for they know not what they are doing”
My
mother’s scared voice advises me,
but
this time instead of calming me,
the
cowardly words only anger me,
do
they know not what they have done?
do
they realise not how they have brutalised my dignity,
raped
my mind, tormented my body?
How
can I forgive them - those who
cursed
my birth and tried to break my spirit
I
forsake your advice, Mother,
I
forsake your promise of paradise someday,
For
what good is an unknown paradise,
after
living an everyday hell
I
will burn everything with my fire
before
they have a chance to light my pyre.
