Friday, December 10, 2010

Maybe. living

Heart broken.
Maybe, living.

She felt all that and more over the years
Unable to unleash her heart's burden
To the womb that carried her for 9 months
He took advantage of her weakness
He knew the fear of embarrassment had enslaved her tongue
She would never utter a word
Not even to her mother
And, that she knew just as much as he knew.
So he touched her
Night after night
right under her mother's protection
Oblivion to the fact that her husband
Her daughter's step father was violating the sacred relationship
Of a parent and a child.

Maybe, living.

He felt all that and more.
Years ago an ugly stain splashed all over his naive mind
The same hands that promised to
Nurture and nourish 
abused his tender childhood
Night after night he cried to sleep
While she fulfilled her sadist pleasures
Of molesting a child.

For years and still they carry a wounded heart
A wound that has no remedy
And a pain that time won't heal
Even though they are grown 
How can the child in them ever make sense of the betrayal
Carried out by the same hands that was suppose to 
Protect and nurture them?
Love and care for them?

For years they lived under the shelter of abuse
No one questioning the agony in their eyes
The pain they carried
No one questioned the fear in their mind
The bruises on their body
No one questioned
No one listened
Therefore no one helped....

-Halima Ahmed
Copyright © 2010

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