i could say a lot about my childhood,
at least i had a childhood,
no reason to complain
why would i complain?
we had it all,
and that was all.
all the quiet nights full of whimpers of please, please stop,
and no, never did he even once stop,
why would he? he did his job, he provided,
food, shelter, clothing and pain he provided,
he protected us,
from ever feeling the love of a father on us,
we used to pray for the rain,
he wont hit as hard cause cause he couldn’t tell the difference between the tears and the rain,
thank God for religious holidays,
he wouldnt dare touch us on those days,
our local chemist was a good man, never charged us for painkillers,
and he never asked why 3 small girls always needed so many painkillers,
i wont ever forget he started to cough one day,
not a Holy day and he didn’t come near us that day,
i went with him to the hospital,
everyone was surprised that it wasn’t me or my sisters being taken to hospital,
when daktari said he was weak ,
i thought our father was many a thing but never weak
things began to look up for us,
his hands no longer had an iron vice grip on us,
that haunting laugh when he ripped apart our legs,
became violent fits of coughing with his head between his legs,
no more nail marks on the floor from the pain,
scars, marks and bruises began to fade only the inside was in pain,
they said he was a good man,
we knew him as an evil set apart from man,
for him they cried , they wailed and screamed,
we never did know why they never saw or heard us when we screamed,
lower his body went and we held each other and in an occasion without joy,
we cried openly for the !st time, real tears of freedom and joy.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. amare poeta
Outside my mind 