For the Raped:
What words would paint a perfect
picture of your pains? What balm would
be a condolence enough to calm the
Throat-tight with pains of body bruises
that of psychic that runs deeper than
a borehole. You could only neaten your
crumpled clothing but never the trauma.
Five-minute moment of torments has
marked your memories with a cauterising
pains, hot hurts that close a final door
on your innocence.
Dear, women are stronger than forceful
men. So don’t man up. Let the tears run
freely & be the purifier of your soul. For
grief becomes heavier the more you hold
on. Free tears that run like baptismal. With
it, let the violations be washed away. In it,
a boat, that you are, buoyed by these
verses of hope, & words of substance.
You are still beautiful in our eyes.
For the Rapists:
Let it be known to those who crush
unyielding clit, who squeeze love
suddenly out of dainty flower. Let it
be known to those who claw at our
ladies without grant, who abuse their
emotions without love. Let it be known
to those who molest maids & maidens,
launder lasses & ladies without
conscience, who turn their days into
chronic nightmare & nights in to
Tell them that:
They shall have no peace like a rope
that carries the burden of a restless
bird. The air they breathe be fetid
with unease until they run amok in
troubles of water that would drown
them. Let every socket of their joints
spark with rabid flow of electric
unease that leads to a consuming
inferno. Let their minds be like the
ground underneath a mikano gen,
full of tremors that shake them to
their very root of existence. Until
they face full furnace of their action
Let them have no peace.
No peace at all.
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