madness

A Poem by Jim Falcon

This poem rose out of shock at the extents of human nature. The act of rape, as experienced by a young woman on the most unfateful night of her life. Please also watch: http://youtu.be/zJmk2wVtiso

On my way back from the evening show,
I jumped on the bus; I just wanted to get home
to a platter of mamma's magic,
eager to warm my skin, and my bones.
A pair of attentive ears waited, I knew,
suckers, for a narration of the plot.
'Life of Pi', it was called--
an Indian man, and his pet, a tiger
who go to sea, and get lost.

Perhaps it was not his pet. Oh well, I forgot.
You know, it's been more than 2 years
since that night occurred.
The one which led me into the bus,
in which the devil already was.
Couldn't tell if it was a square,
but it was definitely not a cross.

For all I know, it could have been a man.

It had white and yellow teeth, just like my father's.
I found out when it bit into my tongue.
Although it had fingers, just like my brother's,
I counted four hands when it pinned me down.
One took my dress off, another tore my pride.
I didn't count it's feet,
but one stomped on my abdomen.
My stomach shot up to my throat,
I choked on my blood, but I didn't die.

It must've gotten mad.
It started pushing my thighs apart.
I wasn’t one to give in, no;
I squeezed them together, squeezed them hard.
But my strength was feeble,
mere jelly against its might.
The wall parted, and there I lay: exposed.
Face-to-face with the devil, and it's spite.
It burned me like fire. I had to close my eyes.
I saw my mother's face, and we both cried.
I said I'm sorry mother, I’ve lost.
And she said everything’d be okay.
But I opened my eyes; I had to look away;
A sting below my abdomen. Burn.
Touch. Itch. Probe. Penetration.
All air rushed out of me.
I choked on a breath, but I didn't die.

I saw semen ooze out, and a triumphant face,
before teardrops veiled my eyes,
and rendered me blind.
I didn’t see it strike the second time.
But it moaned again, and I already knew why.
I wanted to say NO when I saw innocence die.
I choked on a scream, but I still didn't die.

I called God's name, and he commenced
in the form of long cold rust.
Jab. Scratch. Poke. Thrust.
aaaaaaarrrrghhh
Then blood"
the last thing I saw, dripping down the rod,
fragments of my womanhood, in a red sludge,
before one of its hands became a fist,
and met me between my eyes in a punch.
My face was buried deep inside my head.
I prayed to god to kill me, but I still didn't die.

It tugged and pulled on my hair,
and I heard my scalp peel off.
Somehow, in that agony, I managed a prayer.
Please, please, please god, please make it stop!
And from somewhere far away,
behind the fog of malicious hoots,
I heard him arrive. And as you all know,
he's always looked like a man.
He winked, shoved his hand in,
and pulled out my guts.
This is it, I thought! He's put an end to it!
I said Thank you God, but I still didn't die.

I didn't see much after,
everything dissolved into a fuzz.
I felt being dragged and shoved,
then being thrown off the bus.
Got a breath full of fresh air
before I dug my teeth into mud.
Chipped a few, then bounced off a tree-trunk.

I rolled over. The madness had stopped.

I took a breath. I lay facing the sky,
I pictured a moon behind my closed eyes.
That was it. That time had a certainty about it.
I waited till I passed out, but I still didn’t die.

You'll be washed in saffron and milk
on the day of your wedding,
Mamma's telling me, you'll be draped in silk.
Accented with gold for your husband,
a man as wise as the wisest saint,
and as kind as Buddha himself.
A man who'll share the secrets of your body,
love you, keep you and your children happy.
It might hurt a little, but you shouldn’t worry.
It’ll be on a bed of roses, and he’ll give you a baby.
I feel my cheeks change color
to a bright shade of red.
And I hide my face in her lap, and she laughs.

Peace...

Something stirred. Suddenly, I wasn't seventeen.
They'd taken my secrets, and left behind a corpse.
There’d been no bed of roses, no sign of a wedding,
I got a scar and a bruise in lieu of a ring.

Mamma sat beside me, but lost in her own memory.
Why I was still alive was simply beyond me.
But she smiled when she looked at me,
and said it'd be okay.
That she'd be proud of me, on any given day.
The doctor said he'd save me, but there weren't
enough parts left for him to connect.
I looked up at god. He pretended to look away.
It'd be thirteen days before that devil would finally take me away.