She
As the hand slowly advances
The fingers move in a ticklish grin
It is coming
A step taken back . . . one more
The hard coldness touches her back
The fingers yet crawling to hold
Her chest expands with a fearful heaviness
She tries to hide within the opaqueness of the wall
But . . .
She scrambles about her body
She swallows her soul . . . a last resort
The hand has an exuberant confidence
It has a surety over its triumph, on its inevitable action
Its shadow covers all her escapes
She knows what is going to happen
Her breast moves in a palpitated state
The fearfully parched voice tries to gather
But is stunted by an overbearing arm
The tears plead . . .
Darkness engulfs her chest
It spreads to her entire being
Drops fall on the glass tiles beneath some blood some water
On the wall is now a body whose soul lays trapped within its situation
It tries to run out and shout but the noise is too loud to hear its story
– Jui Chawan
