when
sun smiled at the kitchen window
the
broth was cooking on a fire slow,
was
the broth sprinkled with love?
she
hesitated many times before the blow
was
it always sprinkled with love,
was
the lentils, chicken and seasonings grown
in
fertile lands, was it nurtured by good hands,
did
it reach here through a virtuous society,
for
she had always heard,
you
are what you eat;
she
hesitated before the blow
is
a girl, a woman, just flesh and bone
is
she just a package of use and throw;
alas,
it was better to be an animal
….
the
secret of yin and yang is just a crazy riddle
for
he enjoys mayhem
not
her innocent smiles and care;
was
that mutilated body just a piece of flesh,
no
soul, no thoughts, no dreams,
just
a piece of flesh?
she
hesitated before the blow,
her
own blood, the life that she gave
has
mutilated another woman like her;
when
the sun smiled at the kitchen window
her
own blood pooled, dark…
she couldn't find her child anywhere,
but
just another man lying dead;
the
broth was boiling like her blood,
she
shut all doors and windows,
her
little daughter sleeping in bed,
she
shut all doors and windows,
as they are no longer human
but
flesh and bone to be eaten;
she
shut all doors and windows.
Every other day a new rape case pops up for the media to celebrate. A mirror of women's status in the society.
The last few lines so took me by surprise!
ReplyDeleteThis is so affecting, sreeja. There are too many cries of women that go unheard. I thought you made excellent use of repeating lines throughout the poem.
ReplyDeleteRaw piece...dreamlike...surreal. Nice work!
ReplyDeleteOuch. It's good that I do not eat meat, And still this mutilated flesh chokes me--"just a package of use and throw"--I am a woman, too. What would I do if one of my own kin or even children treated women so? This poem touches everything sacred. Thank you.
ReplyDeletepangs!!!
ReplyDelete