Blood

This poem was never performed live but was written for all the times we never had the chance to be heard.

The vessels of that organ in my flesh
Are pumping blood through the narrow arteries curling around my collarbone
On its way to reach my brain
Wrapping around my vocal chords
Strangling me
Stomach acid is flowing in reverse trying to puke up all the words I ate that night
Except nothing gets out
My tongue reverberates in silence
Clenched in between brick walls of pearly whites
That night
Like every night
I couldn't tell him he was wrong
I couldn't scream in his face
Spit at his face
Watch the salty liquid burn his skin
His chin was held way too high for me to reach
He turned his cheek before I could even raise my hand
To slap him
Or to ask him
Why he wouldn't listen to me
His head is too big
Skull too thick
Mind closed with way too many ​locks​ to break through 
Spine​ way​ too straight​ to accept defeat 
Legs too weak he won't ​try​ and kneel to a level where he can ​understand​ that 
He's not ​always​ right 
He's ​not​ right 
He's never right 
But I can never tell him that without dying​ nine lives​ of humiliation 
No ​cat ​could ever be curious enough to see how​ far​ he can go  
Before he ​snaps my back​ into a ​forced submission 
Taking every piece of dignity I have and throwing it ​down into a guttur​al cry of ​agony
​The ​ignorance ​is worse than the crime ​almost committed 
The​ blind​ acceptance is worse than the words ​almost ​said 
Or the words​ always ​said 
I shouldn’t ​play them back​ for him 
Stoop down​ to his level ​just ​so he can 
Listen ​to what it sounds like 
How​ inconsiderately​ and ​unintelligently​ his words are put together 
Each utterance 
A ​beat​ to the drum that ​triggers my warcry 
Steadily marching​ backwards​ in defense 
My neck is ​exhausted 
Always carrying my heavy hanging head in​ shame 
Hating to be ​around​ him 
Hating the feeling of his ​cold blood​ in the veins my heart pumps into
​Knowing his ​exhale​ becomes the ​air ​my lungs take in 
We are ​one and the same 
Yet he has no desire to ​accept me 
But to blame me
For what he has now become
أعوذ بالله من الشيطان الرجيم

-Hawa Rahman