Abuse

Let it Burn

A crack

in my

Mask of Sanity

loose the

bonds of

this Cloak of Civility

binding

bubbling cauldron

churning to a boil

stoked by Rage

spluttering molten blood

birthing

madness

oh trembling

trembles

from unspeakable desire

sweet, sweet the ache

I am a blaze

I am a boil

cracked

this mask

loose

these binds

take the

sacred waters

of Peace

throw,

THROW

away

lest

they quench

the inferno

let

it

now

burn

free

 

**********

Mother kills Rapist – 25th December,2014

A gulf mother, enraged by the rape of her teenage daughter tracked and stabbed her daughter’s rapist at Malalaua this morning.

Police say the woman tracked the alleged rapist to his hiding place in the outskirts of Malalaua and stabbed him with a knife four times in the back.

Charges downgraded for mum who killed rapist – 26 December 2014

Police in Gulf reported that a mother who killed her daughter’s rapist on Christmas Eve in Malalaua will have her murder charges downgraded to man slaughter.

Gulf Provincial Police Commander Lincon Gerari says several witnesses came forward and police established that the mother was acting in self-defence.

Markham Father kills daughter’s rapist – October 19, 2014

A Markham man handed himself over to the Morobe police after he stabbed a man who had allegedly raped his 10-year-old daughter last year.

Morobe Police commander Kaiglo Ambane says the man Kaiapit tracked down and stabbed a man who had sexually assaulted his daughter during 2013 Christmas holidays.

PPC Ambane says the incident took place on December the 20th when the man enticed the man’s daughter with PK chewing gum to go with him to a river near the village.

*****

Years ago I would read or hear of news stories like the ones above and wondered how I would react. Would I be able to walk away and leave it to the hands of the police.

Then I was faced with the possibility my daughter was being abused by a relative. I was filled with a rage I never felt before.

This poem came from that experience. Those emotions I felt.

I know its disturbing.

Why???

missing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cocooned

they metamorphosis

till ready

to break out

to take flight

wet winged

they emerge alas…

tis not sunlight

they find

********************

Sad thing is..it happens all over the world.

Girls, 10, selling sex

A REPORT on child labour in the country says children entered the sex trade from as young as 10 years.
The report is on the rapid assessment in Port Moresby on commercial sexual exploitation of children and children working on the streets based on a survey conducted between Dec 2010 and Jan 2011 by the University of South Pacific, National Research Institute and the Young Women’s Christian Association.
A total 175 children participated and 161 of them were interviewed using questionnaires. Most of the children interviewed were 17 years old, the youngest was 12 and 90% of the children interviewed were young girls.
“The most common age at which children entered sex work was 15 years (34%) but some of the children entered into commercial sexual exploitation from as young as 10years of age,” the report said.
“Forty-one per cent of the children were sex workers before the age of 15, which indicates that children enter the sex trade from a very young age.”

Click here to read full article

TICK TOCK #2

TICK-TOCK

Quick check for dirty spots

TICK-TOCK

Another quick mop

TICK-TOCK

Must make sure the toothbrushes are in their assigned spots

TICK-TOCK

he’s on the dot

TICK TICK K-A-B-O-O-M

I… forgot to clean the clock

*******

When you meet her you would never know from her beaming face that she has been through hell and is still clawing her way out of it.

She can neither read or write and but is fortunate to have a job as a labourer. With this job as well as selling betelnut after work she manages to make ends meet and support her children.

She has an ex who won’t let go and prefers to sweet talk her into coming back with anything he can get his hands on. Its been years of constant physical, mental and verbal abuse.

She has taken out restraining orders but her ex does not adhere to them.

Recently he jabbed her in the thigh with a knife it would had been deeper had she not been standing behind a door forcing it to close while he swung wildly at her

I don’t know how to help her. Relocating her I think is not an option because she can not read or write and finding a job would be extremely difficult and I do not have the means to support her. We do not have welfare benefits in PNG so it seems like a dead end.

She had him arrested but is under immense pressure from his wantoks (relatives) to drop the charges and do away with the restraining orders.

I am moving to town in several days and I am very worried about her.

She lives in fear.

I feel like crap but don’t how else to help her.

Sometimes I think it would be better if I did not care. If I looked the other way. But I can’t so how the frig do I get rid of the guilt? The feeling of being useless and what do I do?

Sometimes life is so #$%&*.

No hidey hole

No hidey hole
I try to run,
I try to hide,
there is no hidey hole,
he can’t find,

On tiptoes,
I peek outside,
and wave to my friends,
playing outside,

Shut my eyes tight,
and I’m by their side,
until he yanks my hair,
and brings me back inside.

LOST

Lost

 Far away eyes,

Runaway mind,

 

Hiding,

From terrors,

 undefined,

 

New friends,

Invisible

 to the ordinary eye,

 

Another home,

Another husband,

Another life,

 

Worlds friendlier,

safer than reality,

 

places,

 where we can’t be

 worlds that hold,

no memories

 S.E

‘For you I will’

********

There are several ways to lose loved ones to Domestic Violence.

I have written about one friend. This is another. 

BEFORE YOU WALK OUT THE DOOR

BEFORE YOU WALK OUT THE DOOR

 On quivering legs,

she reaches the door,

frantic to escape,

the man that snores,

she stretches up,

trying so hard,

for those few inches more,

between her legs,

an aching bleeding sore,

she peeks over the windowsill,

to her picture perfect home,

 next door,

desperate for that familiar,

engine roar,

yearning for the voice,

that will restore her world,

 once more,

until the next time,

her mummy needs to go,

 to the store