But did I really not know, did I really think I could get away with it? How so?
I guess not, when its clear the whole earth knows the secrets. Those you thought were buried in the tombstones of your ancestors, they spring up, like larva at the onset of a fault, like a disturbing dripping tap, drop by drop, my brain grows closer to insanity.
Am I however not insane already, aren’t you, aren’t we all, pretending to be sane for the sake of acceptance in society, for the community to deem us worthy?
As a child I anticipated to grow up and see this life I was so shielded from, to get air under my wings, now I’m held accountable, thing is I didn’t  know, I honestly didn’t know, did you know things would end up like this. Just think on it, did you?
it’s now not even black or white, its blank, so is dignity, so is respect, so  is love, so is hate, my feelings are numb at this point, the typing on my keypad is greater than even the beating of my own heart, why? You ask? Because I didn’t know you would hurt us, I didn’t think we were touchable, I didn’t know I was replaceable, I didn’t think I could be that girl,
but now I am.
What am I? A broken pot, my clay is no longer well baked, sort of like the furnace wasn’t enough
My broth drips out of my veins, I can’t hold it in, I can’t seal the sin.
My only defense is that I didn’t know, I honestly didn’t but who would listen?
Does that not make me naïve? Does it not make me a failure? Doesn’t it make me less of an “educated” lady in this day and age. Traditionally, names would be created for my inadequacy, names to shame me, so that the children of the village would be warned about my misgivings. Then I am branded a disgrace to my father who would disown me, but I think they are wrong, no, I know they are. Before my error they too knew not of it, they too were blind to the matter, willingfully or not. Why not celebrate my fault with food and great wine, why not call it, say, a new record, a new discovery that others are prior warned about. Why label me an imposter if you rely on my misconduct to call me one. Are you too not faulty, aren’t not made of water dyed red and flesh coal black, are you not?
I cry tears but I cannot let you see, the pain within is too much of a shame
You say you don’t want to hear that I didn’t know, what then do you want me to say?
Do you want me to lie that I actually did know, and only then stiffen my yoke
I have no salvation, no Elijah, no Moses.
All I had was you, turns out it was really you that I didn’t know at all.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *