A time to conquer

An accursed pandemonium

that’s her life

a myriad of troubles of trials of torments, completely engulfing her

this isn’t the blissful heaven she was promised

or the peaceful sanctuary of her dreams

everything seems like being upon some black planet

under some strange moon

now, something hideous

a nightmare


she seeks man’s mythical gods

but their ears are deaf to her supplications

and their eyes are blind to her tribulations

she only longs to be relieved of her burdens

so still she prays

prays for this cup to be taken away from her

this cup,

with contents once sweet but now sickening her

poisoning her soul

vinegar on her lips

bile in her throat

an incurable, ulcerous stomach is what her life has become

but she will no longer be victim to these plagues

she will no longer succumb to these horrors

horrors from the hands that once offered kindness

now only a source of infinite sadness

she will no longer suffer in this dark sepulchre

she will get out

get out from this house of pain

this house of torment

this stifling atmosphere

this mental anguish

get out from the midst of these boughs of displeasure



get out of this dungeon

this cellar

this bottomless pit

this grave presenting only an unmerciful death

she will find a way out of this labyrinth

and some channel out of this maelstrom

which has made her spin violently into terror after terror

she will get out

such seemingly eternal suffering must end

for through the years she has not only endured these torments

but she has prepared herself to no longer be his slave, his victim

or the recipient of his attacks

but to overcome

to win this war against him

that evil one

to be no longer battered, beaten,

bruised for her existence

she will regain her life

and detonate every evil situation

she will be free

and at the end

sit on the summit of this debris

and claim victory

Martine V. Clarke is a geographer and poet from Trinidad and Tobago.

Last updated October 22, 2015