Trigger warning: This article contains details about child sexual abuse which may be triggering to survivors.
Two pairs of hands,
one twice the size of the other.
One pair reaches out in the dark, unexplored corners of the skin
snatches, scratches, squeezes out
Innocence.
A shudder follows every touch for the next 16 years.
blame shifts from the man to the mirror
Slowly seeps in through the cracks of the skin
Shame.
Hands that no longer remember shake the pair that does
in a crowd of hands choosing to look the other way.
searching for salvation in soap bars, washing off the
Filth.
The tiny finger never grows big enough to point,
the guilty hands roam free
leaving a broken pair, devoid of the ability to forget, flee, feel.
a pair that can only write in a desperate attempt to
Heal.
Aishee Ghoshal is pursuing her Bachelors in English literature from Jadavpur University. On sad days, she writes sad poetry about cats, love or death – or all three.
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