IN SEARCH OF MY HOME…
I often find myself navigating a labyrinth which leads to nowhere, yet I continue to run from this truth with unwavering faith that I will eventually find my way-out. I sit in silence while this numbness in me gets louder with each passing moment. Everyday, I fight a battle with darkness, haunted by what is done and what is gone. My unanswered tears waiting for an explanation in a grievance cell people call my home.
I want to get up from this bed, but my past disgusts me, holding me back despite being in a new country, a new surroundings, far away from my home. People say home is where love and dreams are grown but all I can recall is darkness. Maybe I should have asked my parents a question. Why did your name and fame matter to you more than seeking justice for me?
HOW COULD I FORGIVE YOU?
The more I run from my past, the more it seems to confront me. I find myself in a brighter day, where the devil is revealed in gleaming light. My home, where my heart resides, has turned into my nightmare.
WHEN I WAS JUST A CHILD YOU TOOK MY CHILDHOOD AWAY.I LOST SIGHT OF THE GIRL I USED TO BE, SHE WAS CAGED IN MY CHEST, HE SWALLOWED THE KEY AS I STOOD THERE AND WATCHED. YOUR FIFTY HAND LEAVING SCAR ON EACH PART OF MY BODY.IN THE SHADOWS OF A DARKENED ROOM YOU STOLE MY SOUL. SHAKING, WANTING TO CRY BUT SPIRIT OF MY SOUL BECAME BARREN .HOW COULD 14 YEAR OLD CHILD BEAR SUCH A TRAGIDY OF SEXUAL ABUSE?
I thought I had overcome this, yet it still feels like just yesterday, despite it having been 8 years ago.
“Flashbacks haunt me, I can still feel it, your tainted hands and I hear it, your sinful voice, and I can taste the poison, still, engulfing my thoughts…I try to say the words. I feel stained inside, the more I try to wash it away the more it smears. I feel dirtier telling you about it because it stings me inside, it really hurts because I tried to tell my mother and instead of a comforting embrace, I got a slap, denial came soon afterwards. I doubt if I still have faith in the god my mother so diligently worships.”
IN WHAT REALM DO I DARE TO CALL THAT PLACE ‘HOME’??
For years I have carried a scar on my soul. Whenever someone mentions home, the word seems to echo my past, filling my soul with rage . I embark on a journey away from my home to find a safe haven, not just built with bricks and concrete, but with the promises I made to nurture the child within me as she grows.
“confined within four walls where even the shadows didn’t hold my hand, I witnessed the echoes of my dreams slipping through my fingers, leaving me exhausted with no tears left to cry.”
Now, I have decided not to search for a home rather sculpt my own with..
walls of my promises
Roofs soaring as high as my dreams.
Garden that blossoms with justice for each thorn
Windows flung open wide for dream to unfold
rooms echoing with laughter and corridors to roam .
bricks of hope, trust as high as walls
Capturing the essence, the rise and the fall.
where the little girl inside of me
believes in her dreams once again,
trusting that the world isn’t cruel cause of a few monsters
Believes the sky is whatever colour she wants to paint.
FROM HERE I SHALL CONTINUE IN THE JOURNEY TO BUILD MY OWN HOME…
