Day 334: Cries in The Night

*Trigger Warning  – Rape; Assault; Gender-Based Violence, Violence Against Women*

Shadows fall on the brick wall,
as the clouds race past the moon,
in its glowing silver light
She stands.

Her tears run red and ragged,
as they mix with the blood from her soul,
in her tattered and dirty clothes,
She walks.

Her shoes make and uneven sound,
her stockings ripped to shreds,
with her arms wrapped her waist
She remembers.

The feel of his skin,
the smell of his breath,
the way he tore her body apart,
She trembles.

She stands in the night
with the shadows watching,
and the crescent moon shining
She cries.

© Manivillie Kanagasabapathy

AN: I wrote this poem back in 1998 – I can’t remember what inspired it for sure, I think it was an illustration of a girl, who had been assaulted walking under a lamp light. Sorry for the throwback – some changes. 

It’s funny; I wrote this poem on November 28, 1998 (according to my poetry journal) and whenever I re-type my older poems, so many things so through my head –

  • What the F was I trying to say?
  • Wow! I was a dramatic teenager.
  • Totally needed a thesaurus back then (and probably now)
  • Sometimes things don’t change
  • Sometimes everything changes


  • DAMN! Did I write that?!?!?!

Day 308: Spider’s Kiss

Do you hear the rain
see the rain it falling like teardrops?
I cry out in pain,
I know it’s Mother Earth’s sorrow I feel.

I look around
searching for answers
But none have I found.

What makes us as humans destroy?
When we were given the precious
gift of life?
How can we have peace,
when all we do is fight?

How can we sit by
and listen to children cry?

How can we stand still
and watch mankind die?

How can we sleep at night,
knowing the end is near?

We are a strong race,
but not without fear.

If you ask me,
I will tell you this ~~

To the Earth, to life
We are a spider’s kiss.

© Manivillie Kanagasabapathy

AN: Reposting an old poem today because it just fit. Lately, I have been reading a lot about the Dakota Access Pipeline and Standing Rock. I wrote this poem back in 1995, in high school, and was struck by how little things have changed in the Environmental movement. Originally printed in my high school, Bloor Collegiate Institute, Annual Literature Magazine – Scribble, it remains one of my favourite poems. Also, the first poem I ever published and shared with others!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Photos below are from the magazine 🙂