Sunday Poem By Amita Ray


In the bleeding sap of life
you hide your gaping wounds
deep down in solitary recess
your affront surges
wells up a tsunami of trauma
your fury mute, impotent.

You-the marginalised were born
to be battered, not utter
dominated, not equated,
decimated, not assimilated,
in the tinkle of anklets
jingle of bangles
resonates the clank of iron fetters,
repressed womanhood kisses
your bejewelled waist girdle
the existence a journey
through hissing serpentine coils
blessed are you if not nipped in the bud!
The agony rises steep
in the curve stereotype
hushed up wrongs piled vent
clamour for face of justice masked-
History repeats itself
in shame retold.

ফেসবুক দিয়ে আপনার মন্তব্য করুন
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