By Debolina Bal
You say, I am a keyYou plugged in
At the tender age of eleven
Or, maybe,
Twelve.
A key
Called Woman,
Jammed into a keyhole
That’s not known.
You turn the key,
And I perform
Antics of a jester,
To eyes on display.
“The key,
Oh, the key,
Is the beginning of your Life,
A potion brewed with magic
And wisps of wistfulness.”
But,
I cannot be the key.
I am yet,
To know the grooves
Inside me.
The grooves that are me,
Those that are human-
That which I am
And not your forged key.
I tell You,
I am only woman,
When the human
In me, is alive.
I am only woman,
When I want to be
And not
when you say I am-
For I am a woman of choice.
Of choices-
To be and not to be,
Of choices-
To feel and grow,
At my pace and space.
Beautifully explained “Women” God bless..
Your lines speak truth and nothing else .. so beautifully written .. God bless !!