A poem by a frightened 13-year-old me
After 23 years, I unearthed a folder containing poems I’d written as a teenager when I felt scared and alone in a broken home. Fear was an everyday emotion. I was always caught between the urge to escape and the need to stay and protect my mother, my Amma. So poetry was my release. Now aged 36, I’m letting the 13-year-old be heard through her poetry, written to a silent God, deaf to the sound of her crying.
Will the Judge hear me out?
Punished for every breath drawn in,
Condemned for each exhaled,
Criticized for every virtue,
Sentenced for every petty Evil,
Branded a villain without reason,
As each day that passes is one of Judgement…
My world is in Turmoil,
My thoughts are not mine,
The Unfairness breaks my back,
Whilst brain-washed Guilt pins me to the ground,
The wafer-thin sheet of sanity,
Amusingly close to its destruction…
Emotions override inside of me,
Whilst for the ignorant in the world outside,
Composure and Tranquility paint their pretty picture
Upon my visage,
The Truth is unbelievable,
But Lies prove to be sufficient…
My tears and wails are profuse,
But they go unseen and unheard,
Muffled and silenced,
By the hand of Deceit,
Dared by Fate to make my move,
Trapped by Fate when I do…
So, me Lord, what is your verdict?
What do you deem to be true?
Will you, once more, close your eyes to injustice,
And your ears to the Truth?
Of what is right and what is wrong,
You will be the Judge,
But let me ask just one more question…
Is there anyone to judge you…?
