take note – spoken word competition
December 1, 2014
Behind Closed Doors by Katriana Taufalele
Behind closed doors is where reality sinks in! The emotional and physical abuse upon her bare skin. The night he held her in his arms. That gentle fiancé was the before. The now is filled only by preparations of handling her body while her emotionless soul is sprawled on… the… floor. The pounds of makeup, accessories the layers of mascara, eye liner, lipstick cannot hide the scars he has inflicted precisely cut, unmeasurably thick. Demolishing the values she thrives on constantly referring to her as your scapegoat. Whether or not you came here by choice Listen up and Take Note. Dr Phil himself stated, and I quote ‘There are no sidelines, only sides’. If you chose to be a bystander and do nothing then you are as guilty as the actual homicide. In the corner of the room is her favourite place to sit! I mean, at least she can tell which limb he would most likely hit. 1 in 3 females throughout their lives have been abused. Now obviously, this is not news but because ‘death is inevitable’ should not be an excuse or because you haven’t witnessed the struggle from your point of view DOES NOT give you the authority to shrug off these issues. Her touch… feels like wet metal against my pliable palms. Her smile… slapped across her face, a desperate attempt for an illusion. Her eyes… wide awake. But not present. Always diligent. “I’m fine…” is always her reply… she keeps repeating it as if not to convince me, but herself. NO amount of begging would calm that savage beast he is the careless bull inside her china shop knocking down her antiques when all she wants is for things to… STOP! To Stop. To Stop. So She Could Breathe. Try to gain control of the situation at hand. Try to. Try to. Understand. Why his obsession became her depression… Man and woman were made to be equal our rights, beliefs and laws in-synch. But now man is abusing woman… Indicating how the pages of the Bible have been creased. She is not a Bank for Sexual Pleasure or a number just adding to the scale No! She is flesh and blood not a rejected item on sale! It shouldn’t be like this… A numbingly obvious phrase Violence is Violence, no matter how you slice it… But I guess there’s been a lack of agreement nowadays Because yet, you still draw the curtains which are as thin as her skin double lock that wooden door, the only vortex to see within. You see, if walls were made of glass and doors unlocked themselves everyone would have a single glimpse into her everyday living HELL! So I challenge you To step away from your comfort zone. But armour up for wars. Because we would always find the unknown Behind Closed Doors.Stop, by Pauline Tapuai-Soti
STOP! The door flew open, leaving a hole in the wall stained with my blood. “STOP!” I yelled as my tears turned to flood, but my pleas were not heard, my vision now blurred. A shadow towered over me blocking what little light was left. I closed my eyes shut, awaiting my fate. As the bat connected with my face and his boot with my stomach I fell to the ground, my only source of comfort, another coat of blood now painted the carpet. His foot raised once more in an attempt to end this one sided war, This pain I cannot endure. “Please,” I plead once more. “Please… STOP!” Stop, rewind and play to that warm and sunny day where the girl pleasing “Please” could live her day at ease. Where the reality she now lived existed only in her sleep. Fast forward to her now where her scars become the gleam she sees underneath her weak sewed seams, where the days she lived at ease became days she had to cease even a glimpse of the free she knew there to be. You see… Behind her bruised eye, cut lip and fake grin there lies a deeper wound, scaring more than just her skin. All his kicks, all his punches, every word laced with hatred could never match her battles, her abuse from within. Her ‘freedom’ now stripped, and ‘normal now changed. What’s left for a girl whose life’s gone deranged? Her innocence now a void and love all but true, is the sun even enough to brighten all the blue that’s contaminated her heart and controls her soul? Tell me, could this reality really have been her goal? Take note, abuse is more than just a bruise on human skin, it’s used to diffuse the rage lying within. Ask the woman being beaten and torn, she understands more than anyone what it’s like to not want to be born. “Please,” she pleads once more. “Please just STOP!” Her hands were raised in an act of surrender, but this was not enough for the opposite gender. CLAP! sounded the hand that hit her face. BOOM! sounded the bat that hit her waist. POW! came the force that she embraced, as she flung out her arms saying “Save my grace”… TAKE NOTE!Windows and Curtains by Faga Tuigamala
Her addiction to silence has become her own prison. Cold, lonely, she slowly dies beneath her own ruins. His addiction to violence has become a composition of scars and bruises, a tormenting music that will forever ring in her ears. Those endless minutes have turned into years. How can he make someone else live in fear? He may shut the windows, he may close the curtains. As long as the neighbours don’t know, he’ll still go to heaven…. Right? Well, he may think he’s right but them neighbours don’t need to know anything because they can see it in her eyes; sunken, worn out… Blinded by a man. Seems as if she’s been crying even before the big bang! But the bang eventually came, she was up against the wall. How does he not feel guilty at all? How does he not wince at the sound of her scream? How can he stand there and watch her bleed? What happened to all the promises he made? Flushed down the toilet if he didn’t get his way. She’s yearning and praying to run out that door she just wants respect, but she’s labelled a whore. She’s a woman! A human being, with a hurt interior, But to you, she’s just a female, so she must be inferior… “Oh she’s a woman, in other words, my toy. It don’t matter if she goes away, every toy has a decoy. She lives for me, she aint a woman, she’s a slave and I’m a man, so I’ll MAKE her behave! No makeup on! Tie your hair up! Don’t touch this! Don’t look at that man! These dreams you dream, you’ll never have! She’s nothing but a fool, I’m God in this house She think she’s special, she’s just a fat cow! Where’s my dinner? You’re so ugly, you’re so slow! What was that you arrogant ho? I’m a come over there and tear you apart! By the end of this day, you’ll be left with no heart. You talk back, I’ll throw you on the floor! Sick of you crying, can’t take you no mor-“ How do you live with yourself? Adding another bruise to the dilapidated shelf? She’s a woman! But now she’s a personification of fear. She aint eating, she aint drinking, just swallowing those tears. She had big dreams, desires of success But all those vanished at the swing of your fists. She’s a woman! But you’ve made her a victim of abuse. She has a voice deep within, but she will always refuse to look for help, to find an escape out of the hellhole her silence and your violence has made. Take note, I’m the beast of every woman The monster deep within every victim who is mourning. She’s worth way more than rubies, yet you treat her like dirt she’s a creation of God, yet all you do is hurt. I’m a beast, and I will extract every ounce of abuse out of your body don’t try and fight back, better safe than sorry. I will stand up for the woman lying on the ground who’s been crying stinging tears the whole year round. I will stand up for the child who has to witness a destructiona violation of rights, a mother in subduction. Take note, you may shut the windows, you may close the curtains The neighbours may not know, but He’s watching you from heaven…
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