POEM - Thirty Seventh Issue, March 2013
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| WOMAN |
Plucked the flowers from the wild
put them where they belong -
in my hair.
Combed it in a hundred ways,
plaited it differently every passing day,
strew petals into my bath,
pushed feathers into my pillows,
shelled oysters for pearls,
wound them around my neck,
wrists and waist.
Hung the crescent moon
and stars from my ears.
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Wore terracotta when I was poor
glass when young, saved for diamonds
as my shadow grew.
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Rubbed cream into my chapped skin,
ate pomegranates, beetroots to capture
the pink below my skin.
Gliding, swirling, swaying,
learning from the swans
and the gazelles.
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Unfurled my skirt to
be swept off my feet,
hemmed it up to climb trees.
Wore my blouse with frills,
ironing out each wrinkle of my life.
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No peacock, ‘am I, born with
the rainbow packed into my plumes.
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Me, invented myself - a woman.
No saint with the halo stuck to my head,
tied the talisman to my will,
the prettiest creature on the Planet,
have stolen from forests, sunsets,
mermaids, the breeze, to
create the woman
you struggle to discover.
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Contributed by Tejdeep Kaur Menon, IPS
Additional Director General of Police,
Andhra Pradesh, INDIA. |
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