I.

A swollen womb of ache.

Piercing with the cries of a child,

Hallowed upon me – 

In the vein of an ugly rape.

I remember You…

Wasting my desire, 

Under a coat of darkness,

And suppressing my screams,

With sully and starkness.

Weaving my body, 

Within the sin of yours,

And leaving me sealed under 

A gloom of rotten doors.

Today, 

Before me rests a mirror,

A lie above all, 

A pretension I carry like a mask

A hand to lead my crawl.

I am frail, frayed beyond repair

And there is no identity left for us – 

For the two hearts beneath my skin,

Which I carry with my notoriety bare.

I cry! I do! 

Sometimes I bleed too,

And I can feel its fingers – 

Curling around hope,

But our destiny, oh yes, 

We both knew!

Robed off of dignity, only impurity left,

And the minuscule swell upon which I prayed,

Was the only fad oblivious, 

To the man who, I, he theft!

I trace my body with disgust and loathe 

Reliving my wounds, the guilt, the flaws,

And memories uncover me from where I hide – 

Grab hold of my heart – 

And squeeze out the fears to which I abide.

There is nothing for me to cradle,

No hand for me to hold,

And there is no one to censure – 

Why my heart has turned so cold!

There might be a day,

When this child would walk life,

Ask questions,

And answer mine.

But he may perhaps never know,

That unlike others,

He was a seed 

I wished had never grown.

I would have sliced my belly,

And held him in my bloody hands,

Petite, fragile, merry – 

Dead in the casket of sands.

His soul would manifest wings,

And heavens would open its doors

I would set my angel free,

From being dubbed the son of a whore!

I’d save him the honor, 

Of never calling me Mother,

And die with the burden of slaying,

My very own never-to-be toddler!

But,

The bulk embraced my body,

Holding me with care,

And inched closer to my icy heart, whispering –

“Mother, don’t you dare!”

There was no justice for me, 

How could there at all be?

When in the court of man 

Its pleasures were all they willed to see!

Lords with words stuffed in money,

Pointed fingers towards my violated body- 

To examine and preach,

And asked me to lead their eyes,

Where with their own hands they couldn't reach!