George Onsy writes and draws

FROM A RAPE VICTIM TO HER BODY

O my poor body

Torn apart,

Have you paid already

The highest bill

For the femaleness

You’ve been supposed

To hold with dignity?

O my poor body,

Crying in vain

To an earless justice

That only condemns

The white-weapon killers

Yet, is blind still

To the filthy dagger

That has stabbed deep

Those prohibited

Sacred depths

Of your soft fragile

Life-giving cellar.  

O my poor body,

Incurably wounded.

To live till that gloomy day

When you are to be

Smashed

Like a helpless rose

That’s always been desired,

I really wish

You wouldn’t have been born.

But, what a pity!

Why didn’t o Merciful God

Protect that femininity rose

With a deadly thorn?