I am not a Hero
I'm ashamed to face my daughter,
the cell bars hold not my guilt but my innocence,
Its held with me here,
It smells more than the communal multipurpose bucket at the corner.
I have a witness, but she ain't any good to me,
My hope wanes and my life balances on a see saw at the cliff edge,
On the other side is the judge,
tomorrow he'll be happy to lift a foot,
and ram his gavel as I fall down to the emotional demise of my respect.
I am accused of rape,
yet I am the one who saved her,
her muffled screams did her no good in the bush,
overpowered by the man whose face I couldn't see,
He ran with the dark when he heard my cough,
I covered her, damage had been done,
and her tears couldn't wash the pain away,
but love and medicine would, I hoped.
So I carried her along,
And in my mind was the story of the Good Samaritan.
Met a car, cops,
I knew they would take it from here,
And I wouldn't want to take credit if any.
Handed her over, and my hands cuffed,
I expected that anyway, but was worried not
I looked at her, her word would save me,
I had just saved her from a lifetime scar,
she sure would be grateful enough to say it was not me,
probably she would want me by her bedside, but,
She was dumb and blind,
still, I hoped the semen wouldn't match my DNA,
but it seems I interrupted long before he left evidence,
The only fingerprints on her were mine,
seems he had gloves on,
Yesterday my wife and daughter came,
I wish the judge has my wife's eyes,
But all he sees through thick glasses is volumes and volumes of intelligent accusations,
And all his ears accommodate are expensive empty words from his learned friends,
My wife's eyes see through me and fish out any guilt, always.
This time she said she believed my innocence.
Still, my daughter is ashamed of me,
told me it was the last ever visit,
for she was done being the daughter of a defiler,
she says she fears for her own dignity,
and that she prays I rot in jail.
Tomorrow I shall stand in court to defend myself,
It'll be my word for me,
and the word of the State against me,
sure I know I have no chance,
She saw not who defiled her,
I know she heard his voice, and mine too,
and she can make a difference,
but how? her eyes and mouth shut,
I am the scapegoat, a lesson to ill-mannered men,
Maybe the defiler will come to hear his sentence,
How happy will his grin be when someone else takes it for him,
I'm not ready to be the lamb of sacrifice.
And I am not ready to lose my daughter,
I am a rag, I am not a hero.