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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required She held her mother’s hand As tears made their way Down the face called “Exquisite, beautiful, charming”… The face that had been her comfort She could not absorb the pain in her words “Nothing…I feel...nothing If I could only feel a little of what my friends describe That feeling of”…she sighed “Of….of giddiness… They say it’s like…like… The beating of a drum..faint at first and then Beating louder and louder until… Until you want to explode with the strength of the vibrations Tingling all over”… She covered her face with her hands “Instead…I try to imagine it as we lie together… Hoping I can please, can satisfy… Your father.” Talking about private matters Was difficult in her culture Now, home on semester break She heard her mother share The horror of that night When as a child they held her Kicking and screaming Exposing her most private parts Cutting away the center of desire The essence of her womanhood That had been cloistered In the folds of safety Leaving her….scarred She squeezed her mother’s hand This woman whose every move Made men stare Exuding sexual charm She was the epitome Of every womanly grace…. Yet...unable to feel the fluttering That some time ago Had slowly awakened in her own frame Mysterious sensations Her mother’s tears Now fell from her own eyes She bowed her head in shame Wanting to blame Her grandparents for following The stupid traditions of their world… Thinking it was best… Her mother enfolded her in an embrace And rocked her “Shhh….don’t cry… It’s too late for tears now"… “I’m so so sorry, Mama,” she whispered, Pulling away Her mother reached out to wipe her tears “Feel sorry for your father I see the pain in his eyes… Knowing that I cannot feel what he feels… Often, he won't approach me, but I entice him I dance for him”… She smiled…caressing a memory “He stole my heart The moment he looked at me with those eyes How I wish he could see, the fire of his eyes Burning in mine." It that moment, it took shape The career that had remained Unborn…in the womb of her mind She would be the voice…of every little girl Who had ever screamed in pain...in shame She’d speak… For the little girl her mother used to be For all the others that were to come So they wouldn't have to grow up With eyes that reflected pain instead of passion The pain she now witnessed …in her mother’s eyes! No, it was not too late to cry… Her tears now would be tomorrow’s tears Of some woman’s tender and sweet release
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