A Past That Ain’t Passed.


At this grave I presently stand,

Deep within wishing I had a magic wand,

To turn time and season to that fateful night,

When he and her showed each their might,

Started as a talk but ended in a fight,

A young girl I was but her tears I still saw,

Her pain in her eyes all so clear.
From the other side of the bars I balefully stare

As his voice invigorates the events of the black day

When teasing ended in squeezing

Fear crept in my veins

Igniting hatred for every seed bearer

I had a mind miscarriage, beautiful memories of him are gone

But my eyes are still pregnant with the pain he caused.
Each kick and blow I still see,

That silent night when all hell did break loose,

Was it the cheaply brewed booze in his head?

Or was it the poorly fed multi-coloured damsel from the bar?

Or maybe it was my mere presence at his sight…

But nothing…

Nothing still justified mom’s departure to the other world,

And its the sorry ass of a man I called dad,I gotta thank for it.
The day I redefined marriage….

Was when he decided to play god and pulled her legs to kick the bucket


At the apex of shame he stands

Locked within the web he has spun

Conscience swollen with regret;

He patiently begs death to kiss his flesh

Should I borrow him the rope?

Should I keep it for when I change my mind?
Maybe death may be too simple for him,

Even his stay in this prison ain’t enough,

For he robbed mum from me,

He made her leave me so tender,

How I wish to soak his body in molten lava,

To just watch him melt to the bones,

Still that too wont be satisfactory,

To ease the pain and hurt that lingers on in my heart.
My heart is an abyss of misery

Whilst his is hard like oodles of masonry

I wish to pull the trigger and ease my wrath

But I’m human with a heart of flesh

I’m not afraid of his stony gaze

His smile mobilize demons and devils

Do me a favor and look in the mirror

Look in the mirror Dad and see a glimpse of hell.
Times and seasons sure might have passed,

My reasons to not love you still stands till now,

As I lay this wreath upon mum’s grave,

I know the real me too is six-feet deep down,

When you killed my mum,You killed me too…

And each year at her grave I shall be,

Seeking for the emotional feel that you watered down.

©Joy Munde🌷(Kenya) 

©Elizabeth Semende🌼 (Zimbabwe)


3 thoughts on “A Past That Ain’t Passed.

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