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…
