Tala

Her name was Tala,
Daughter of Tolongo, the infamous Tolongo,
She had a figure, a replica of her father's chimney glass,
Apparently, one of the precious commodities of the house.

She walked with her head high,
As if she defied the very poverty that dictated each step.

Her family was a magnet to calamity,
Just as she was a magnet to stares and whistles,
She was the talk of the village, and miles yonder,
She was the unit of beauty,
Just as Tolongo was the unit of poverty.

Many wanted her, and so she knew her paths,
She chose those less trodden,
She knew how to keep herself,
Immune to gossip, proud in a humble way.

Every cloud has a silver lining,
Seems hers had a thin one,
But her cloud was think and dark black,
She knew not its boundaries.

Then one evening,

She came back in tatters,
Blood stained , and stains of shame on her heart,
Her pride had been taken away,
The only precious thing she owned, after her life,
Something she had kept safe, even from herself,
She saw herself as an added shame to her dad,
Her innocence, virginity, had been torn away.

Tolongo,
The man who loved his daughter,
His only daughter, after his wife bid life goodbye,
He had sworn to protect Tala, as much as he would.

But she was defiled, her pride was robbed,
His heart was shattered,
She felt ashamed, he felt afraid, even to look at her,
She knew who broke her, she told him. 

What could they do? They would be sued instead.

They decided to keep shut,
Their presence; their only solace.