RAIN CAN NEVER KNOW

Rain cascades down my bedroom window, 

as salty tears trickle down my face;

wind howling, pulling by the roots

whatever stands in its way,

making me wish I could do the same

to any obstacle that blocked my path. 

I think the rain knows my thoughts, 

my fears, insecurities, all of it,

captures it all in how it seems

the sky is crying, for all its children 

who have been abused.

But rain can never know, 

that it drowned my voice

while he pinned my arms to my side, 

forcefully thrusting into 

my underdeveloped vagina; 

that its accompanying flashes of lightning 

became extra illumination as I was defiled;

that its torrential flow wasn't enough

to wash off the blood, or the trauma,

the price I paid for someone else's lust; 

that the rumbling thunder 

reminds me of the raspy voice

that filled my ears after each encounter 

saying, "Don't tell Mummy."

©6ukunmi