Dystopia In My Little Utopia

As Secrets Catch Up

Attention: Mature theme

As I take a stroll down the Memory Lane,
The ever rusting and fading window panes,
Some would say, these moments rather plain,
Yet I was never known to be vain.

My first memory seems to be that of the festival of colour,
I remember those days of the oncoming summer,
In a desert, the middle of nowhere,
A place I used to call home before we came here.

I was a rather curious case,
I used to be so frightened of my Ma and Pa's coloured face,
Remembering those days when I used to run away from those coloured hands,
Leaving behind a trail of small footprints in the cool sand.

Yet one day, one fateful afternoon,
When I stepped out, like a total fool,
Ended up getting my beautiful dress, hopelessly and colourfully stain,
Big fat tears, sobs wrecking my body,on my little feet, I ran.

I laugh at the melodrama queen, wondering how every small thing seemed so big and at the time,
Foolish childish fears,long left behind ,
Moving along to the birth of the little devil, my to-be-partner in some crimes,
Me dancing around, the crinkling laughter,echoing through the wind chimes.

Then came the moving, to a big strange city, full of wonders,
A new, unknown home, with a family of four,
Bathing in the capital's grandeur,
A new school, pretty lights, made the little girl's heart flutter.

Then came a few birthdays and few memorable trips,
Those oh so innocent yet naughty eyes that gave my ma's heart a flip,
I remember walking through the overcrowded market places, my ma's hand in a tight grip,
Feeling her reassuring fingers, in between my little fingers, so loving that I could never let them slip.

A few more years down the line,
A new school, an awkward kid with a shining smile,
Her prep teacher, her only friend at that time,
A school filled with little bullies, yet all went along just fine.

As she grew more, she stumbled upon a beautiful soul,
It kindled the fire for an unlikely friendship,
Conceived through a few unkind words, she wonders if they still hurt,
It was a friendship she learned to cherish, even though the reasons for it were truly absurd.

An year passed, a devastating storm waiting for the lass,
A monster entering her life, watching her every move with sinful eyes,
One fateful afternoon, he had his chance,
Just a fourth grader, whose innocence he stole without a glance.

It made an impact far worse,
For she truly couldn't understand what that touch was,
Just something that made her skin crawl,
A tinge of blood, she cried over and over again, "Please stop."

It was a dark memory, the darkest of all I have ever had,
An ten year old, her eyes became truly sad,
She saw him over and over again, cowering in fear, ashamed of something that wasn't her fault,
He didn't do anything else, of which she was glad.

Life took a turn for a future full of secrets,
No one got the wind of it, not even those she held dearest.
In her head she used to shout out to the world,
Hoping her ma would listen to her, even with her lips sewn shut.

Time did heal some wounds,
Yet what it couldn't heal were the scars left behind,
Secrets did have a cost, the little girl slowly realised,
A mama's girl, feeding her demons, as time flied.

As time passed, one thing she came to fear most,
A man's touch, any man's touch and she froze,
Day in, day out she hoped,a day would come when he would feel sorry,
For all he had done, just some regret, a little remorse.

Yet over the years, she maintained a silence,
Took about 7 years of deep contemplation, before she came to her senses,
She came clean, a vulnerability she rejoiced in,
Her mother told her, "Staying silent was your only sin"

Though a lot happened in between this time,
A lot of achievements, academic and otherwise,
Though these memories were rather dull to be precise,
A small realization is in line.

Its perhaps fear that makes us remember,
It could be fear of losing someone, fears that maybe petty or otherwise,
Lacing vivid color, to rather mundane memoirs,
Now I know what it feels to have the past catch up to me,
For I hadn't realised I was running, running from something that was inevitable.

Author's note/letter:
Writing, in some people's opinion is a rather passive form of expression, as if the words don't hold any power without a voice. Yet I don't want it to happen with this particular poem. It has a simple theme of sexual abuse and trauma that follows. It's rather unfortunate how at times, when a child goes through any sexual abuse, s/he is too ashamed to talk about it even to their own parents.
What's worse is that at times some don't even understand what happened, and how it happened, thinking it may be their own fault. So what is needed is providing that comfort where a child can truly talk about it to their guardians and can recover emotionally. Support your children, be open with them, educate them about sexual abuse. It's of utmost importance. We need a society free of pedophilia, a place where children can live their childhood in a safe space.
This poem is dedicated to this cause.
Feel free to vote and comment.

Issued in public interest :),
-By Casey1654