Talking

December 22, 2009 at 3:24 pm 1 comment

The Well

A handful of water
Cupped in my palm
Slipping away fast as
I raise it to parched lips

I want to drink deep
Quench the pain
Soothe the hurt
That rages within

They might come back soon
Shall I stay? Shall I flee?
Right the wrong?
Or wrong again?

To stake my claim on these little drops
As much mine, as they are theirs
Tainted waters, an impure touch?
A whirlwind, anger, clouds my thoughts

A drink of water was all I needed
My dignity is now what I seek…
Broken arms hold on to dear life
Drawing out, drawing on, the little drops – toward me.

    Divya S Sarathy
    MSW I
    TISS, Mumbai

I was raped

Today, I was raped,
Behind the dark alley, under the dark sky,
They say I am mutilated,
Yes, my womb has been shred apart…

I came, oblivious of the Gods conspiracy,
You observed, aware of my naïve fecundity,
Your vindictive strength cut me into two,
I struggled on, ululating a morose tune.

You pinned me down ,
I grasped and struggled,
My clothes, an inconvenience for you.

The truth was out,
I was being plundered
by the wall, my body, the Gods and you.

My fingers stood numb,
Against the invasive metal you penetrated into me,
I heard a yell pass unnoticed,
As you muffled my mouth and slid inside me,

Yes, you were inside me,
All, all, all night long..
But my eyes
they were away, heaven bound,
Looking out at the shiny star.

You licked my mouth,
I smelled your sweat, your hunger,
I saw your eyes,
suddenly vacant, looking at me,
Was I your shiny star?

Impetuously, a laugh escaped,
You looked away, your gaze ashamed,
For the sins you bore in your defiled virility,
Had violated my flesh incessantly.

I watched you suffering,
In the surging hurt of your lost glory,
You were holding on to me,
To be your Christ, your messiah..

You looked for salvation, from me.
To forgive you, redeem you.
But inside me, you were flaccid, weak
And it was my anger that bore against you.

You came out slowly, pitifully,
Hiding your militant sword in your scabbard,
But the murder lay in the blood that oozed
from me, testimony to the conspiracy.

You carried away your clothes in a huddle,
Eager to hide away in the dark,
Yes, you were looking for another sacrificial lamb,
Never seeing the goddess that lay stabbed..

Devika Singh
Development Studies, I year
TISS, Mumbai

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Entry filed under: Poetry.

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1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Sanchita  |  September 29, 2012 at 7:01 pm

    Deep writing, the pain is just felt by your body.

    Reply

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