They were climbing stairs—she and her brother,
bags rustling with homework and hunger.
A man on first floor leaned on the rail,
with stinky eyes and a grin too stale.
He said something foreign—they did not reply,
just quickened their steps, tried to pass by.
He quickened his steps. Her brother ran faster
Fumbled with keys then vanished altogether.
She stayed one stair behind, heart in a chase.
the stairwell became a trap, with no route to escape.
she let out a scream, but the building stood deaf.
Each wall a witness to this muted theft.
His sinister hands reached for her uniform skirt,
Lifted it and then her, pressed tight to his shirt.
She wriggled and fought till his grip came apart,
he dropped her but reached again to restart.
She lunged from the floor and caught his hand in her teeth.
bit down through the filth that festered beneath.
His howl split the air, and his hand dripped red.
he cursed, threw slurs, then stumbled and fled.
She gathered herself and got back home -to safety.
But all she got was dismissal, silences and scrutiny.
His wound must have healed by now- decades later,
But hers remains painful and fresh-probably forever.
This poem speaks for voices smothered by silence and those who returned home to find safety was another room for disbelief.
