Tears, tears I cannot cry
yet tears, tears that cannot dry
burst my heart, my broken cistern
and paint my mind with an eternal stain
When, when can I feel the rain?
Can it really wash off this stain?
When can my sorrows go down the drain?
When can I be free from this disdain?
An angel, an angel touched me
he choked my innocence, my pure thoughts
if I dare say that a devil he be,
the world will kill me with its words
Uncle! uncle!! uncle!!!
will I truly die if I tell,
the whole world the tiny detail,
of what happens in that cubicle?
That scar I got, in your car,
the one you feel is healed,
is there, engraved with steel
on my heart, my broken jar.
I dart like a lizard trapped in the rain,
fighting powers and living in pain
shielding my face from your shame
lest the world blame your sins on my name.
The dusk is gone; the sun has risen
yet gloom covers the horizon
The unspoken words of the me-like child
will bleak this world, this civilized Wild.
(For the victims of child sexual abuse. Appalled by a society that is increasingly tolerating this horrible crime as perpetuators are walking free.)Horizons, rendered by an OMA Professional pupil in Lagos, August 2021
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