Sunday, July 30, 2017

The Infirm by Natasha Chebet Mutai

I can’t feel the pain anymore
The monster is no more
But the trauma is in yet
His cold grip of iron squeezes
Tears cascade down my visage
I’m sad beyond salvage
Worn out

I saw him
He winked
I squeaked
As he shortened the distance
I suffered to elongate it
I turned,
Ran…. skipped puddles in the rain
But when I turned,
His yellow tainted canines
Black with rot at the gums
Were right behind me
The grin spelt death
As he let out a cold breath

I shuddered at his mere sight
I froze as his hand rose
He grabbed me
Wrestled me to the ground
And there I lay before him
His unsated hunger
Dangerous lust
And deep-rooted libido
Etching dangerously in his eyes
His touch as cold as ice
Like the crawls of a thousand mice

Then came the pain so excruciating
The unbearable torture
His was no excursion
Only lust that was poison
Branded and paraded
Rendered valueless

I still feel the pain
Too painful to measure
My priceless body tortured
Humiliated and dismantled
For his pleasure
All for his gain
I can’t find the innocence
In my dreams I feel his presence
Was it of any essence?

 I see my blood
As it flowed
The tears fell
My cries hitting solid wall
And now-
Now to love I must
This destroyed body
Still shaken
No hope
Yet he is all over
Free as a bird
While I am caged
In the memory of his injustice
I’m to nothing
I live because I survived

I speak because I exist