My name is Tara
And I am a victim of your choices…
I stand here and ask, “Tell me how I was born”…
Last I checked, I didn’t ask to be born. But your pleasures, moments of fantasy and lust came first.
It was all you thought about even though you knew your life was a sham.
Now I watch you hold my little hand, pour down a few tears, tell me how sorry you are, wrap me up in rags, place me in a woven basket and dump me in the streets where you could not be seen.
Maybe, just maybe you thought I was a piece of trash; but no… You felt my heart beat and knew I was human, yet you did what you “had to do”…
And so… a street urchin, I became, thanks to the one who picked me up from the dump site.
She wasn’t perfect, but she sure was better than you.
I walked the streets, scouted through every corner I could find; laid my head anywhere I could.
I walked and worked.
I was an adult at the age of five, I didn’t ask for it, but you gave it to me.
And so I lived the life you sent me to live.
Right from the shanty where I “lived” I watched other “things” that looked like me, had the hands that I had, the same legs I had, breathed the same air as I laugh their way through life like that was all life was about.. A Laugh!
They sure had all the good that life had to offer and here I was at the opposite end, where you left me.
I wasn’t even worthy of feeling the lace of their shoes talk less of untieing them. We were not the same. I was inferior, they were human and I was not…
Oh I remember you… how could I forget you?
I used to cry for toys and food and attention but you said that was not enough
I watched you laugh, get drunk and beat up my new mother at will
I heard her screams, begging you to stop every night.
I saw how she waggled round our shack with bruises all over every morning, asking myself continually what in heaven’s name you did to her…
I remember you, because you touched me too.
I guess she wasn’t enough for you. Maybe, just maybe each time I did something wrong, canes and “kobokos” weren’t enough for me, you had to teach me a better way to do things right.
You taught me how to wail… You taught me pain… in a way I never imagined.
I was six and you taught me that weeping was a way of life.
It was a sin to laugh like the other children did. I had to feel pain as a way of showing I was alive.
Here’s the scar you gave me, telling me that you would forever be a part of me and I would never forget you.
So, yes… I remember you coming after me every time she was not home
Your style? I can recite… first, I deserved a formatting slap, then a push to remind me that you were stronger than me, and then the terror in your face showing me that the beast in you was about to pounce on me and finally, the dagger, after which… I die…
I am me… this is what I have become…
A product of your actions and inactions; I am alive, and I walk your streets, mingle with your kids, eat with them and they even bring me into your homes.
I have been sold out to prostitution; your choices have become my lifestyle.
Your sons are my friends, your brothers and husbands visit me where I now live
They seek solace on Delilah’s laps where you have driven them to and Sodom’s arms are open wide to receive them when they come.
I survive, just like you have told me to. I get high in the poisons you call “drugs”
There is nothing wrong with me, just like you say there is nothing wrong with you.
I only have to act and give you a reason why I “do the things I do”, using the words you have taught me…
Sold out to sexual perversion, I only need to tell you I’m “gay”. What my mother did to me? All she has to say is she made a “choice”. When I steal from you or dupe you? I only need to say I’m “eating my share of the national cake”.
We have decided to be diplomatic about everything, and so have I…
And You… I know You…
You seem to be all that they talk about. They seem to trust you and each time I look at you? You’re like the coolest dude around, the only dude who’s looking at “me” and not wanting to tear my legs apart.
They say You’re Almighty, All Knowing, All Sufficient
And then I wonder, why did you let it all happen?
How come you sit still, watch them mess me up and come to you for forgiveness
How could you accept their filthy hands when they raise them up in worship? They touch me unruly with those same hands, you know…
How dare You receive their gifts and offerings? Don’t You see that I was sold out to their friends and colleagues as wagers for all the money they make?
They tell You they love You and You believe them completely… they tell me the same thing, how beautiful I am and how much I ease every of their tension, yet they leave me in pain and confusion each time
Aren’t you tired of these mortals? I see how they act all holy in Your house and sell themselves out to the devil himself once they turn their backs on You…
Now here I am… Tell me what need You have of me…
Tracy is no more… we were in this together, You took her life.
We didn’t deserve this life, and yet, she had to die by the gun.
And now, You leave me with no choice but to run for my life…
I stumbled upon a Book where they said You give beauty for ashes and You let all things happen so that Your Glory can be revealed.
Now I ask, just like that man, Moses, Show me Your Glory!
Teach me what it is to smile, not because I’m about to do something so evil, but because something “good” actually happened to me.
Teach me what it means to “Live”…
It’s been 27 years, is it too late to start?
Heal my wounds, they say You can.
Mend my heart, they say You specialize in that too
Oh! hold my hand, hold them tight so I don’t have to stab them to death if my path ever cross theirs…
Their choices no longer matter to me. I choose to Stand!
My name is Tara
And I am a product of my choice, my choice to follow You!
Written by: Amy
He never said it’ll be easy, but He promised to take us through it all.
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