WRONGED- Chinonyerem Nwachi

WARNING: THE CONTENT OF THIS WORK MAY BE CONSIDERED SENSITIVE OR TRIGGERING BY SOME READERS.

W……..R……..O……..N……..G……..E……..D

JAILED

He had thought the truth was made of figures and facts

Of recognised places

Recalled compiled acts

Both culprit’s and victim’s faces

Now he could see reality

The violence, how ruthlessly

 The truth materialised from knowing the right people

And not doing what was right

A collage warped by evil

That he was powerless to fight

It was a hideous mosaic of false sayings and names

A masterpiece of callousness and untrue claims

With corners adjusted carefully

Along with witnesses paid handsomely

° ° °

If Lady Justice is blind

Then how exactly does she deter?

Is there a hole in her blindfold?

To pick who she prefers

Ignoring laws age-old

Forgetting all that is fair

PENETRATED

Rancid breath, leaves and bramble

Craving death, amidst their ramble

Groping hands spreading her legs

Thrusting, prodding while she begs

She keeps wishing it’s a dream

Every scratch and every scream

Tears roll down along with blood

Disgust hits her like a flood

Her partner might see her as a rag used

Venomous acquaintances would spread the news

Close friends and guardians plead and plead

Heeding oh-so-kindly to her every need

But the world should never know

Her brokenness should never show

They’re the sons of powerful men

These things happen now and then

They might have done the crime

But they won’t do the time

They give her words not comforting

Of the futility of reporting

They say, “You must have done something to entice,

Those gentlemen who were so very nice.”

Justice is an illusion

That was the conclusion

Of the society and each past generation

DENIED

The books would be arranged

And the schedule just right

Pleasantries exchanged

At dawn’s first light

His room-mates would be ravenous

In reading as well

All decisions unanimous

He could just tell

The first list was uploaded and his name wasn’t there

But other lists were coming, there was no need to despair

His score had been outstanding

Praises and cheers resounding

So the wait was becoming more than confounding

September became December

And he could hardly remember

How quickly time flounced by

The first years were sorrow

And fear told him tomorrow

Would only approach cry by cry

Experience in the field showed the truth

A plan of the selection of the youth

Based on relations

Not their education

Others left on the street to seek their own vocations

Those were the things that mattered

Which got dreamers’ hopes shattered

FIRED

Chilling to the bone and harder than stone

Were his stare and strident voice as he hung up the phone

The vault became quiet, her heart was still

The fault was the client’s, with the iron will

Who promised her a fortune, a wad of dollar bills

Her greatest wishes and fantasies he would fulfill

It was her job to please him, adjust to his appeal

The bank needed his patronage, she had to close the deal

It must have been omitted from her job description

The mildest slip, a simple lack of recollection

That this work entailed rendering services of prostitution

Now at a crossroads, was there a solution?

There had to be for she was no escort

Stepmother had never taught her to sell herself short

And certainly the ball was in her court

The manager would have no insult of this sort

The reverse was the case when he was being told

Her courage took a dive and she was all but bold

A dismissal letter followed his howls of rage

That one had to make compromise at a certain stage

Life was no rose bed, no walk in the park

Lest her attitude changed, her future would be dark

Head held high, she left the bank that day

For better opportunities she began to pray

The world was no rose bed, to that she agreed

But to the whims and wiles of evil she would never concede

° ° °

The silenced ones are many, how can this be?

And the countless hoards of innocent ones brought to their knees

Like Abel’s blood, the crimson pools bellow from their graves

And painful losses might’ve occurred more than the saves

How young ones can be taken, snatched from loving arms

And witnesses for fear of danger fail to raise alarm

The oppressor has to face the music, feel the might of the law

Why ever suppress? There’s a line we have to draw

Change is expedient, and begins with practice

Of priceless components; love, truth and justice

©Chinonyerem Nwachi

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