Voices After

This grave is not quiet

The inside rumbles like a sick stomach

Its anger burns hot like a volcanic lava
Here lies one whose body you destroyed
The one whose soul escaped your knife

Rebellious as a maxist worker

Here lies a saint in hell

This grave shades tears to swim in

And the voices that you hear,

Comes from besides the dry bones

Without regard for age and innocence,

Armed with red eyes, a knife and all

You shocked me numb 
pinned my body to the ground like a dry skin 

and forced my soul out

Everything crudely, beastly and hatefully done

Oh! No! sacrifice for no gods

Still my terrified soul cried, "father!" 
But I know you didn't hear

Your primitive I'd driving you high

As you drove it into me, 

and extinguished the foundation of my youth

I told mother it wasn't early menstruation

But poor mother 
Bound by the culture of submissiveness
And struggling to remain the good wife of her her husband

Turned aside like one speaking to a goddess,

"Domestic affairs, must remain domestic, 
Tell no one about it child."

But why mother? why? 

"When a man reaps from a tree he waters, 
It's no big deal 

Behave like your big sister. 

This is a river that flows through the family garden."

Mother! Can't you see my tears? 

Rape or incest mother?

Tell someone I am crying mother!

The very thing that I feared

Has come upon me

AIDS is not a flu!