Lessons From Childhood
Lessons From Childhood
Those sleepless nights
Recur as nightmares,
The ones I spent
Hiding under the warm blanket
To escape from the shrieks
Of heated arguments.
The endless melodies
Of maternal tears
Never seemed so prominent
When they oozed
Into the painful lullabies
The made me sleep in terror.
Patriarchy resonated
In every crevice of my growth.
I could not but watch on
With my tiny fingers
Curling around Ma's thumb
To ease her agony.
Drunk in violence,
My dad retaliated to liberty.
A house but prison;
Alcohol and tobacco;
We died but slowly,
Daggers piercing through
The throats that were choked.
The voices stifled;
Mirrors reflecting trauma.
The furnace of imprisonment,
Red hot in angst and wounds
Of domestic violence
To which my 12-year-old self
Fell prey to futile protests,
Landing as black and blue
Over my bleeding will
To carry on,
To fight for my mother.
The door locked from inside
Remains imprinted in my memory
As we held it against
A brute I called father,
As we held it against a jailer.
If I could,
I'd rewrite my past
With the blood from our scars.
If I could,
I'd drown his face
In the sea of our tears.
If I could,
I'd have taught myself
Those virtues aren't inherited.
That's what I learned
From my parents,
Yet they didn't teach me,
Because my teacher
Resided inside,
And that taught me
That the offender was unjust.
And the world saturates you
With inevitable sufferings
Until you redeem yourself.
Lessons taught to me
As I learned to perceive
That the world must speak up.
Intolerance or brutality,
The fate shall be the same,
As here I float 8 years later
In the ocean of my tears,
Yet free.
Fingers curled around
That same thumb;
Doesn't fit the same anymore
But my parents taught me,
It's never about fitting in
But setting oneself free
And calling out injustice,
As here we embrace one another
While he resides alone in the jail
That he built for us.