And one day
They will come for me
It wouldn’t matter how old
Or young I be
It wouldn’t matter
If I loved reading books
Or lose myself in reverie
What would only matter is
That I am a piece of flesh
To be devoured
Raped, mutilated
Butchered
And burnt
Beyond recognition
So that my own mother
Wouldn’t know
If she ever met me
It wouldn’t matter at all
Whether or not I be educated
someone’s only hope
Piece of someone’s heart
Because for them
I am probably just a piece of elegy
Written in my own blood
Pause, breathe
Don’t you hear
The vultures gather
Hyenas cackle
Baying for my warm flesh,
While I lie, eroded
My lifeblood soaks the earth
Nurturing the roots of divinity
And I resurrect each time
as a woman
Waiting behind my veil
For the beasts to lunge
and feast on me
I forget to keep a count of my stitches
A million and half, they must be
Instead, I fight my ephemeral instincts
For, am I not worshipped as deity,
Could they ever harm me?
Yet they inch nearer
Just outside my door perhaps
A wolf dressed up as friend or family
And then one daughter at a time
Is devoured
by carnal flames of thee
Yet I sing and dance
Blissfully unaware
That one day
They will come for me
-Rianka Bose Saha
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