A Woman

BY RIYA NAGPAL

The hue of 'red' for roses
announces your love and care;
but, the same colour 'hurts'
when you see it on my underwear.
You spoil me with 
diamonds and regalia - pitch perfect.
Why not bejewel my existence,
adorn me with respect? 
Marriage -
a union until death, a magical escape,
a wreath of vows;
but what about marital rape? 
You sexualise my breasts
when I haven't even flowered, 
whilst I'm still a seed. 
Yet, you detest and repel them,
if a child they feed. 
You treasure the 'no-makeup' makeup,
embrace this art of the feminine,
concocted by all colours and tones.
But why no love for all shades of melanin? 
First, caress my soul.
Cramps to menopause - honour all my carnal revolutions,
accept the scars and stretches,
for I'm no ordinary fruit of evolution;
I am a woman.

1 comment

  • “First, caress my soul.
    Cramps to menopause – honour all my carnal revolutions,
    accept the scars and stretches,
    for I’m no ordinary fruit of evolution;
    I am a woman.”

    These lines hit home! Women aren’t just objects to be judged about everything. They should be free to make their own choices and should be accepted for them.

    Darshana Mehta

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