POEM

Up above
‘neath starry skies, my home lies;
Far away from this land of hate,
for ages and ages my home awaits.

The society cannot accept opinionated women just like you and I,
The ones that stand tall and aim to soar high.
Women before us have only witnessed suppression,…

It’s the wind
Splashing against my face
Rain water
Not you….

This city of dust and lights have no place for the pedestrians.
Tranquil walks became relics of the bygone days and wildflowers replaced by buildings

The shrills of cicadas,
Pierces through the concrete,
On a hushed eve.
When pregnant with thoughts
The clock ticked on,

July rains;

The spitting July rain

When tiny tadpoles leapfrog to life,

The smoky sky above

Obscures its pristine blue blanket – slowly

As the clouds above melt, I then remember

When the December air ruffles your hair
When the dried leaves touch your feet
crying for a few droplets of water
and praying
not to be flown away by winter flair

Sweat drains my body
as if a water fall eroding
the red soil of a naked hill;
Pungent, slimy, the quasi-liquid drips
oozing out fatigue,

Kissed by their laughter
and caressed by their cheerful giggles,
she cried for the child, she will never be able to bear

Rising from the ashes
Born again

Amniotic fluid clings shining
Like morning dew
Washing away the yesterdays