She called me Imbecile three times:
(You are an Imbecile! You are an Imbecile! You are an Imbecile!)
Furled my innocence to throw out of the window,
tore my garb off my body
and cut a thousand holed tent out of it,
then hung it on the bamboo for her crows to rest in;
She threw sewage waste on my face to hide my presence,
put burning coal on my palms to deplete my sins,
lashed and whipped me hundred times to do me good;
She exposed my breasts for loafers to feed at,
shucked my clitoris and stuffed it with hessian of poison,
pecked at my organs with needles soaked in piss-dung;
She led me to believe in her
Supreme Beneficence.
But I survived.
I survived to feed her crows.
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Sana Janjua writes and performs monologues engaging audiences into witnessing the internal states of people who undergo trauma, symptoms of PTSD, and ongoing conflict with dreams, and childhood(s). Also, she writes poetry, and works as a psychiatric nurse. She is the President of Surrey Muse, and loves to read books.
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