Quiana Charles

Pre-college / CAPE (2020 - 2022)

Quiana enjoys writing poetry, playing the piano, singing and reading novels. While Quiana enjoys learning new languages, she aspires to one day becoming a social worker who works specifically in the field of domestic abuse and child protection. She prides herself on becoming an activist for women’s rights and currently participates in a number of women's activism programmes.

What Poetry means to Me... “I entered this competition to not only show off my poetry, but also to improve my public speaking skills. My passion for poetry began when I read my first Edgar Allen poem (anabelle lee) I fell in love with it. This would be it if I believed in love at first sight”.

quiana charles

The Trial by Quiana Charles

The Judge calls my name and now they will hear my case.
My heart starts to tremble, my mouth starts to rage.
Forty minutes after the defence supported my father’s offence.
So help me, father, for I swear on this Bible.
This man shall never see old age.

How could he control his beast as a man?
Did you not see what this temptress had on?
Her short shorts, which exposed her highs,
And her little shirt, leaving her cleavage bare for his eyes!

How could you possibly argue that I wanted it?
Really?
What does this have to do with my body?
Does no one care what he did to me?

This nobleman, who has a wife and children.
He should be considered sick!
But here you are prosecuting the body that God has given me.
For you, society ignores the sin that he has imposed on me.

How could he?
He raped my trust,
Before he even forced himself upon me.
And...and my body had no other choice but to defy me.
Letting the darkness within him to extinguish the spirit inside me

He ignored my cries for help.
My father, the one who is supposed to protect me!
As he laid with my naked soul, robbing me of my dignity.
All I could have screamed was, "Daddy, please...please have mercy on me."
I am your daughter and you are supposed to love me!

He tainted all of my warm memories.
All that remains are the ones of his drunken slurs.
Now I'm left with a feeling of discontent.
Hanging onto the cliff of life,
because my silence, my clothes, and my body permitted him to come in.

Forgive me
I shouldn't be surprised, because women's right to their bodies is nothing.
Men were born from the genesis!
And from there, I learned that a man shall have everything.

But...but I love him as a father, not as a man.
He didn’t see me as a daughter.
Only a tool in his self-serving affair.
He treated me like a prostitute, ravaging my body.
My sacred virginity was his only care.

Dare you argue he had no idea what he was doing?
This Cheater, This liar, This self-serving rapist!

Give me back my childhood
“My innocence”
Give me back my childhood
“My confidence”

I beg you, Judge.
This is my only plea, for I have nobody.
I was crucified by the Judahs who gave birth to me.
As she sits next to the man who has ruined me.

"He raped me," I cried.
"He abused me," I exclaimed.
But none of that mattered to her, none of that mattered to my mother!
Because the sensation he gave between her thighs was worth her daughter's cries.

Forgive me, Judge.
For I know what your verdict may be.
For my curvaceous hips, my well-endowed chest was enough permission.
Enough permission for this paedophile to violate me.

But, as you see.
He robbed me of my innocence.
The innocence that belonged to me.
But he will never be able to take away my womanhood.
Neither he nor society can damage me.

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