Hour my body was crafted, it was-not a skilled

goldsmith or the master strokes of  Vinci’s or

Raphael’s nor was ever any

Michael Angelo .

But a humble iron-smith who did the menial

job,  took his rusted hammer and a dagger

carrying stains of dried blood  to chisel  

me-over the  blazing flames.

For I as woman were to be tried and tested , my

smiles were to be  scrutinized from every angle

 like dumb Mona-Lisa gilded in golden

frames of Parisian museums

My walks were to be controlled like those ugly

dolls with small feet, and pangs of thirsts  

denied  with lack of cascading wines.

Silent  saline tears shed on altars of the suffering 

suffering were to be shrouded with blackest

mascaras, and locked away in the folds

of satin pillowcases! 

A sense of doom of a cruel persecution always

hovered, dreams were kept in check,secret

lovers were sailed away so far on those 

dilapidated boats..

Prim and proper, a society lady I glided  on the  

white marble halls of my castle of gloom , swiftly

learnt to smile with cockiness at trivialities

while serving teas with burnt hands ..

From the golden window I envied the lives of few

lucky concubines , goddesses  of their carnal 

brothels, they kept their freedom by bartering 

their rounded Alps and whiffs Of fertile

Amazonian gorges.

Envious I wandered why my freedom was sold for

few dinners and fake smiles,while  scars on their 

manhandled bodies seemed to glow my  mutilated

heart was to be a forever mystery, hiddden safely

behind a giant sapphire.

While those  unknown harlots  burnt out by making

out with thousand lovers  , I a godly woman simply

faded  polishing a giant sapphire,

day in and out…