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  • Walt Shakes

    Walt Shakes

    Walter Ude (@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter. He blogs at mymindsnaps.wordpress.com.

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Those Scars . . . Agonies That Went Unsaid

Can I ever forget your face?

My slew of scars will always remind me

Of the savage glare in your feline stare

Stalking me with much beadiness

Like an enraged panther

Closing in on a vulnerable prey

*

I still recall

The stench of your breath

Of aerosols laden with booze

And those abysmal tribal marks

On your pitch-dark contoured face

*

You were that shadow

Conjured from the land of nightmares

The fearsome old ghost

Lurking in my corridors

Your clammy perspiration

Instilling trepidation

Down the length of my spine

Suffusing every part of me

*

Your muscled grip was upon my mouth

Cutting back the teary sobs into muffled ululations

While your wrinkled geriatric finger

Worked its torture

Palpating the cleft of paediatric rump

Navigating the secret realms of my thighs

*

I was simply a child

Damn you! You never cared

All because you were wild

Utterly perverse and penile led

The scars in my mind

They bear your seal

*

With your phallus

You impaled to the hilt

Without a flinch of guilt

My innocence you devoured

A helpless child you deflowered

I couldn’t breathe a word to a soul

Even when my heart needed solace

*

Like a game of chess

You became the ornate king

And I became the peasant pawn

Rape, torture to ceaseless bring

Late at night until the dawn

*

I still remember the collision

Of clenched macho fists

And frail childish cheeks

Your brutal incessant violation

Drenching me with humiliation

Your one cheap route to ejaculation

I can still hear the gritty sounds

Of your vile ecstasy

I can still hear them, that mantra-like gibberish

*

These torments

I hid deep down in my heart

I could not voice them to mother

Or say a word to another

They wouldn’t believe me

I longed to speak these scars

But was there any that cared?

Cos the world I saw around me

Was completely tone deaf

*

And so I remained

A broken child . . .

A broken mind . . .

A broken foundation . . .

A broken life . . .

A broken adult . . .

One whose name is written

In the scrolls of the damned.

Written by Okechukwu Rhema Elosiuba IMG-20131127-WA003

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5 Comments

  1. Yemie

     /  December 4, 2013

    Wow! This poem’s simply unbelievably sensational. Every line and verse, so well composed and so vivid. I give it to the poet, you did a FANTASTIC job.

    The poem itself is so sombre and touching. Its sad that some children really do go through this ugly and unwholeness experience. To all the broken-hearted out there, may the Lord heal you all with His Right Hand that doeth valiantly IJN, Amen.

    Reply
  2. Yemie

     /  December 4, 2013

    *unwholesome experience*. My bad! Lol!

    Reply
  3. There are certain memories that will never fade….

    Reply
  4. The evil that men do…
    The scars that no one can see…
    The healing that I wish all the ‘damned’ receive
    The world I would love to see
    Where women are protected from evil

    Reply
  5. Anyanya

     /  February 3, 2014

    This scourge, you describe it well. It makes me feel that same brokenness. OMG!

    Reply

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