Subversive - A Collection of Poetry - 8. Les petits enfers

Les Petits Enfers

It was attraction
They told me, when he yelled at me.
He hurt me often, as he saw fit.
"It was fine", they told me. "Just letting off a little steam."

He had some problems at work. He never told me exactly what.

When I caught him cheating with another girl, younger, much lovelier than me, they told me to keep mum. "Men are not meant to be monogamous. Besides what will you do if he marries her." I know Al Kuran Majid gives me rights in this matter, but in this world of faithless men, can I exercise those rights?

If I was asked what I wanted to be when I was younger, I would have told them, I wanted to be a teacher. In my village there are no schools. They are all farmers. But, the soil is infertile. So, nothing grows without backbreaking labour. My father had so many mouths to feed. He was a sorry man. Sorry Man. So, he sold me to this man who sold me to another man who sold me to another man who sold me to another man... They never asked me what I wanted to be.

My peers at college taught me, jealousy is a sign of deep affection. So, I was okay with him getting jealous every now and then. He loved me. Then, his love deepened even more. And before I know it, he started getting jealous all the time. Like when I talked to another man in the market, at the elevator, in bookstores, in restaurants, at the office, at our door, in my family gatherings, over phone... And he used to tell me how ugly I look when I try to seduce them. And then he would rape me, hurt me, tear my clothes, burn my skin so no other man may ever find me attractive. He loved me so much, that even though I was an ugly scarred whore, he still didn't leave me.

Even though we are supposed to be equal in every way, the long slogans and rallies and Gay is Okay, he still treated me like his wife. Not the endearing part of course. He did what he saw his father do to his mother, who did as he saw his father do to his mother, who did as he saw his father do to his mother, who did as he saw his... I was ashamed an' shamed every living moment I spent with him. He loved to do that. He corrected me every time because I wasn't masculine enough for him. Every time we went out, ate dinner, walked in the park, rode trains and boats and cars and buses and planes, every time we fucked, he admonished me for not being man enough. But, he loved me so much.

I was five when my mom died. My father worked hard to pay the bills. So, I took care of him. I took care of the household, fed my young sister, fed the little fishies in the tank, did my homeworks in time, washed the dishes. My father drank sometimes. He would come back late and get in my bed and... First time it hurt a lot, I couldn't shit for a month. Then, it got easier. Nowadays he gets drunk a lot. I thought of telling my school nurse when the bruise won't go away one-time. But, if my friends gotta knew, they'd think I am a dirty faggot. I am no fag. Trust me I like girls. You believe me, right?

Hell is little pieces of us stuck in the past, unable to progress forward. Forever stuck in an infinity loop, ignoring the present. Hell is where all hope is lost.

27/04/17