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Feb 2021
She sat at the edge of her well-beaded cansi throne looking out to the joyous crowd that had gathered around the alter of her fears this was it.
This was the day.
This was her day- they said.
Clutching onto her inherited bouquet of plastic flowers
She tries to swallow down the rising well of her tired tears and the hunger of her robbed childhood.
They dress her.
They pin lace and red satin bows around her 14 yr-old waist as she reminisces..
The rings of sand around her ankles..
Playing mindlessly underneath the autumn sun.
This was the life she knew..
Instead she is forced to think of tonight. Tonight he will break the ridges of her innocence with the same fists that taught our daughters how to keep their mouths shut
With the same hands he will tuck away the gift of her young silhouette underneath his corner table
This is not the life she chose.
She knows nothing about bearing a generation for a man 3 times her age
She knows nothing of the smirk on his face as he welcomes his guests..
This was his wedding after all..and she was just his prize..
This is a poem about the horror of child marriages. Not enough is being done about it so thought I should open the conversation. Enjoy
Written by
Lolo Skai
23
 
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