Sitting in a pool of insipid light
Wrought by convulsive sobs,
Trembling with the shock of the attack
She hugs herself tightly.
Shutting out the world, she grieves
The passing of purity.
Clothes hanging in shreds off her
Abused body, blood-weeping wounds
Testimonials of humanity’s orphan.
Thoughts take form in her addled mind
Questions, cruel questions, like daggers
They rip apart her soul anew;
Her insides tremble at the malevolently certain future
She knows this is just the beginning of
An abuse that will be hers
To live in, to die with, to be haunted by
She disgorges in a fit of bitter reflection
And supporting a dead weight on
Head hanging low
She cries again.
…………………….“In this cruel, cruel society
The abused are sadly not allowed the sanctity of being victims but are treated rather as
Criminals…who seem to have somehow warranted
The misdemeanors that befall them.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem