Elegy for women

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