Too small to understand why...
She has no choice but to live with the secrets.
Secrets in her bed, she's forced to keep them,
Secrets!!!
To speak of them is Taboo.
The world calls her a liar but truth is she is a liar because she lay there with her secrets while the truth looked her in the face...
Proof, she had none, except her torn fabric and the wounds in her flesh,
She is wounded, no one sees it because it's hidden by her innocent smile....
A young girl...
A girl too young to be called a woman......forced into motherhood,
A girl.....but only to the naked eye, infected with a disease unseen by the naked eye...
On the streets she is called names,
But they do not know where she's been,
They have not walked her path...
She limps as she walks and stumbles along the road,
They laugh at her not knowing that she hurts,
She is a young girl,
A girl too young to carry the weight of a man twice her age,
A girl too small to wear the shoes of her mother,
Her mother, as if deaf, dumb and blind knows not of the evils that lurk her hallways,
She hears not the mournful screams of her baby girl,
But maybe...just maybe she does but values her marriage more than the safety of her girl...
A young girl...
A girl too young too speak against her father,
Her father, the man she must cry to.....is the man behind her tears,
The enermy inside her home,
With nothing of which to fight him,
Her innocence is stripped away and her spirit broken,
Should she speak of it so the law may take its course and justice prevail,
But what is justice???
Justice.....the name of the man that tore her fabric and broke her,
Justice was the lawyer who spoke against her in court.....just because its his job,
Justice was the judge that set her enermy free...just for a little more than his usual pay,
Justice was not just because the law enforcers were just as corrupt as the law breakers....
Broken.....cannot even begin to define the state of her spirit,
She is wounded,
For 9 months she bares the pain,
Cries are heard from her newly born baby girl,
A young girl,
A girl too young to understand the myriad of feelings concealed in her mothers heart,
Happiness, Sorrow, Regret, Rage.....coupled into one teardrop rolling down her right cheek,
What is she to tell her little girl?
A young girl,
A girl too young to understand why.....why her father is her mothers father,
On the streets she is called names....
But is it fair??? Did she choose wedlock??? Should she suffer her mothers curse???
Mocked, hated....suffering insults not fit for human kind...
She is a young girl,
A girl far too young to survive the cold of the streets,
But she must....and she will,
Laying cold and frozen still on the streets,
She hears footsteps,
The weight is on her chest,
A rough hand on her leg slowly crawling up her ragged dress,
And once again......History repeats itself.
By Nancy Saili (Zambia)
picture source:ladyenews.wordpress.com
Perfectly narrated. Much Respect Nancy.
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