Tuesday, 12 August 2014

'The rape of childhood'

To be a child,

And know that

Arms will hold, voices will comfort

When you are scared

That a mother’s love is yours to claim

That a father’s pride is yours to own.

To run into school

Little back straight, head held high

Knowing a day of wonder waits

That the teacher’s trust is yours.

And then, to be that child

Of only six, punished,

Uncomprehending perhaps of the crime

Which had to be atoned for.

Locked in a room and found by familiar faces,

Not to offer freedom, but to hurt and violate

With devil hands, perverse bodies.

Did she think this was some hide and seek, I find you game?

Did she think, this too was the teacher’s way of punishing her?

Then to return home in silent devastation,

And to see your mother bleed in sorrow

Your father break in anger.

Some of us are human still,

We too weep in anguish,

Scream in defiance.

We wilt in grief, knowing

Nothing, nothing can repair

The one shot at childhood,

That once broken,

Nothing can rebuild the

Spire of the dreams of tomorrow

That rises in every child’s eyes.
© Mona Dash

Born and brought up in India Mona Dash now lives in London and calls it home. She works as a manager in a Telecoms company and is an MBA by profession. Her short stories and poetry have been published in various magazines and anthologies in India and the U.K. Her first book of fiction is represented by Redlink Literary agency and she is currently working towards an MA in Creative Writing at the London Metropolitan University http://www.monadash.net/poetry.html