Inherited Fear
By Sylvia Dominic

Today, I took off the dress
I had been planning to wear
for days.
From fighting to wear shorts, skirts, dresses,
to setting them aside—
Is this what it means to grow up?
Is this the fear I have inherited
from my mother?

 

Will I ever feel safe enough
to wear what I love
without fearing the silent judgment,
the unspoken question:
"What was she wearing?"

 

 

Doses of Despair

But is my home really safe?
Is it truly mine?
His steps, his voice
Echo in my mind.
His touch,
His breath still lingers on my skin.

 

I prayed and prayed,
But the reality remains
Fresh and vivid in my mind.
I am repulsed by
Every inch of myself.
Every inch of myself
I wish I could shed—
Purge with fire,
Cleansed by blood.

 

The haunting presence remains,
A relentless shadow I cannot escape.
In the numbness of pills,
I seek solace,
Yet find only deeper despair.
Drowning in a sea of my own making,
The search for peace
Fades beneath the waves of my anguish.

 

Amidst the darkness,
A flicker of hope struggles to survive.
A fragile promise of dawn
Breaking through the storm.

 

Sylvia Dominic from India is passionate about teaching, and poetry has always sneaked its way into the back of her notebooks. She loves to lounge with her cat curled up on the lap, basking in cozy affection. When she is not lost cat cuddles, you’ll find her exploring new cuisines and savoring delicious adventures.