The rains finally arrived,
accompanied by tremors,
in the autumn of my thirty-second year.
Torrential floods
of pent up fear and emotion,
unleashed for weeks on end.
In my state of brokenness,
I felt the sorrow of
thousands of women –
oppression, rage, disappointment, hell.
It’s been years now,
yet pools of tears still lie,
stagnant, breeding insects,
mutant bugs with segmented bodies,
struggling to stay alive.
I crush them – try to stamp them out,
but they reappear,
unexpectedly, driven
to what purpose I do not know.
I have conformed, cleansed, repented, prayed.
Yet the sorrow comes
in waves of terror,
reminders of the past.
Worry not for me,
but for the children,
whose innocence is tainted
by horrors unknown,
who pay the price
of my victimhood.
Confused, removed, they suffer unwittingly.
Pray for release, for salvation,
pray for understanding and redemption,
pray that we may all, once again,
breathe.
One Woman's Quest 