Trigger warning: This poem contains mention of child sexual abuse.
We all have adorable daughters,
Sweet-scented darlings,
Some are little Gypsophila,
Some are adolescent Daylilies,
Awesomesauce, have a butcher’s,
Medicines I assign only,
Perhaps needs an immediate check-up,
Do you a good turn,
It’s profession of salubrious origin,
A ritual I perform of fathering,
One and all my outpatients sing the praises of,
Ha-ha worthy me.
Pull up signal in a tongue-tied practice,
Sent to her meek innocent way,
Obedience to mother dear,
Never came,
Behind the check-up bed alone,
With a visor dirty old man,
Stethoscope on navel for seconds placed,
In two shakes,
Hands went up on bubbies soft as petal,
Squashed one by one.
Her mind infirm progressed in pain,
Overtaken by emotional and physical paralysis,
Adulterated blackness, bad touch,
Inability to make out the incident happened,
She walked out of the room,
Unnoticed by chair and table,
And even light and air,
Came out dyed in the wool, wolf,
Expressing empathy again to gullible poor mother,
Taking return with medicines,
She saw him, phlegmatic,
Craving more for an easy prey.
Sonali Sharma is a Program Coordinator at Himalayan Environmental Studies and Conservation Organization in Dehradun, Uttarakhand, India.
Featured image: Christopher Boswell / Unsplash