Seema Taneja
it glistens – a tiny dewdrop
perching on the shriveled leaf
just like the tear trickling down
her kohl-rimmed eye
it’s seeped to the core of her voice
– the winter chill. the words lie scattered,
abandoned, like a solitary cottage
amidst an expanse of snow-clad wilderness
buried deep into the recesses of her heart
the seeds of love refuse to blossom
desperate for a release from her suffocating cage
she picks up her pen and fails again
a fierce sigh rises from the gut
a scream gets suffocated again
a pall of gloom envelopes her
the streams are frozen, dead
how many more winters would she have to brave
before the icebergs of culture and tradition melt away
before the anguished cry of a woman
gets a language the world understands
before the blank parchment of her heart
gets inked in vibrant colors of spring
there is nothing poetic in her elegies though.
Or mine.
No words💚💚💚💚
Just loved it. I love sentence, where you wish… The world could decipher the language of her anguished cries… It’s hard hitting ma’am.
Thank you, Sonali. 💚
What a beautiful poem. The end is beautiful and the whole poem very impactful 🙂
Thanks a lot, Nitika.
I loved your poem, I totally agree that language and tradition have failed woman for centuries. Time to write another history: let’s write our bodies.
So true.
Thank you!
This is absolutely beautiful… The cry of a, woman gets a Language the world understands!!! You have penned it to perfection
I am elated to get this appreciation from you, JP. Thank you! 💚
Beautiful expression , very touching
Yes , a long wait for the icebergs of culture and tradition to melt away
Thank you so much for reading and appreciating my work!