Broken Shrine by Divisha Chaudhry

TW* sexual violence

This is the only shrine I hold
The only shrine I believe in
But also the only one that
lays dismantled at my feet

 I am giving this shrine a voice today
I am surrendering my own lulls to those who can’t hear again the cries of that night

But you, you need to hear their shrieks – their bane
The death of their soul
Their body holds the mirror – their eyes reflect the prayer
like a bell that has been ringing forever
You enter this temple and tung tung you tug the bell
announcing I am here,
I am here bless me – I thank you, I need you.
Their eyes hold that tug –
tung tung the tears come at night sometimes
Though most of us inhale and drink them in

Come
Hold what they made me hold
There were no god hands used
They stung like hooks pinning my wrists
and all I could do was tug tug along to break free

Tug till I bleed no more from up or below
Tug till the pushing stops
The hook breaks free
and God themselves come down to free me
But this is no moral land
No one knocks the door when our shrines are dismantling
His and hers
its and theirs

Others just gorge the sight
and claim no land was harmed in the abuse
No temple was uprooted from the legs

Everyone remained divine
Everything remained untouched

---

“I actually wrote this poem as a catharsis of sorts and later submitted it to a zine as well. After the rejection, I felt that the parallels I made with a dismantled  shrine and an abused  body might have been too generic and could have been framed better. Either way, I tried to reflect back and reshape the piece but was unable to omit anything which is why it has been lost in my ms word app until now.”

Divisha Chaudhry (she/her) is a 22 year old South Asian currently pursuing BA English (research).  She is a survivor and identifies as demi, grey-ace. Her writings have appeared in Qissa Magazine, Tabula Rasa Review,Breadfruit Magazine , The Phosphene, The Alipore Post, LiveWire.in among others. Instagram - divsinks