By Monisha Thomas
Who walks in beauty?
She does.
No longer apologetic
Insecure or Invisible.
But wryly I'd say
Invincible yet vulnerable
is she
A fine fragrance unbottled
that tugs at your soul
Nudging hidden memories
From the attic of my brain.
Upkeep and grooming
Were subtle words wedged in,
Nudging and cajoling
To whiten and lighten
Her skin to a point it was
Like translucent tumblers
glistening and bronzed
With hair that was scorched
coloured and treated,
The drain and strain,
Of perennial pretensions
Weighing down hearts
And wallets
Constantly battling
Defects and norms.
These are perhaps
Perpetuated notions
That strip so many
Of dignity and confidence?
Crossing the fifties
Rough seas and seasons
I grin at the equator
triumphantly!
Not a feminist nor feline
But Feminine
Loving my wrinkles
Curls and grey hair
Stretch marks and all!
An unfiltered unedited
Unapologetic creature
With splotches and blotches
But grateful and graceful
She walks tall and in truth
She walks in beauty.