By Nancy Awana
Everyone loves when it rains,
Except a few who cry in silent pains.
The rain reflects the mirror of her room ,
Hidden beneath a veil of silk .
So when it rains,
She can’t escape the chains of complaints.
And at last, all her happiness and joy drains .
They said she’s too fat
To be a secret,
Too loud to please the crowd,
Too soft to ever be a leader,
Too naive to dream bigger.
Since when did this all begin ?
Who are they to always weigh her in?
Since when did the mirror become,
A judge , rather than a witness, to what she’s become?
Don’t they know,
She’s loud enough to stir the crowd,
Soft enough to rebel without any sound,
Naive enough to bring a storm,
And strong enough to break all norms.
Can’t a mirror be just a mirror-
Reflecting a fearless truth-bearer?
Next time when she meets her own reflection,
She wants to see her and not fear the rejection.
Now, when it rains, she dances,
Owning herself through all advances.
No longer she waits to be seen,
Now she sees herself more proudly.