Everyday
Updated: Jun 3, 2021
By Ranudi Gunawardena | 17 | Sri Lanka
Everyday since I was five,
When the old grandfather clock in the living room
Strikes nine at night, I kneel down on the ground
With her, our hands raised to the heavens,
Our lips fervently moving in prayer. Everyday
In the dead of night as his drunken knock thuds
At the heavy wooden door, I close my eyes shut
And listen to the gentle sound of her footsteps
Towards the door. Everyday he steps into the house,
Smelling of whiskey and beer, screaming in filth,
Swearing, as drunk as a Lord. Everyday he forces
Her to her knees as we had knelt before god
Some five hours ago and beats her with his belt,
Smashing against her head whatever lies closest-
One day a vase, another a teacup, one day a bottle
Of half-empty whiskey. Some days he beats me.
And every dawn I look into her sleepless face,
Removing glass from her hair and wash the blood
Off her face as she runs her long fingers
Along her new purple scars. Everyday she tells me
He’s fighting monsters within. And everyday
We kneel down on the ground, our hands raised
To the heavens and our lips fervently moving in prayer
As if daring God to show His face.
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