Treasure Island

Barak Al'Mondia

(10th July 1983 / Nairobi)

Waithera


I found her sobbing,
Razor in hand ready to slit her wrist,
I move close but she clenches her fist,
Ready to fight- I smile,
Hoping to reassure her,
That I dont wish to harm her,
That everything is alright,
She's sceptic,
I sit next to her in silence,
She looks at me- maybe deciding whether or not to trust me,
I move closer hoping to hold her,
Suddenly, her head falls on my shoulder,
She starts crying again,
I cannot understand her pain,
How do I convince her not to worry,
Yet still have her tell me her story?
She held me crying as she spoke,
Telling me how someone defiled her,
How he held her down and raped her,
How she'd give anything to have him lose his life,
How she doesn't know how she'll make a wife,
How could she ever make love again,
Without having the ordeal replayed again?
I feel useless because I know I cannot help her,
I suggest we call her father-
Then i see the look on her face,
And like flashbacks from a bad dream
the scenes fall in place,
I can clearly hear her scream,
'No daddy, please dont daddy, '
And see her with a blouse torn and skirt all bloody...

Submitted: Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, February 10, 2009

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