Light of her eyes is faint
Her hands are numb,
Her breath is slow and lack warmth,
Silence is the language of her tong,
Hardly she is aware of her surrounding,
Thousand of thoughts roaming in her mind like clouds,
No solace in any of the thought she finds,
No smile on her lips ever shines,
Who is she I asked to me in surprise,
She is the abused women residing me in disguise,
Constant nagging and condemnation she has to bear,
Sometime her sobbing inside me I hear,
She is punished for being true and real,
She is suppose to make compromises without shading tears,
Since centuries she has to follow the rules and expectations of others,
She has to follow one path, being left with no choice no matter what she prefer,
Deep seated dirt of ages on her soul,
Gives her an identification with the dead past to and a definite role,
But sometime she want to speak, she want to say,
I want to choose my own path my own way.
Liberty of my soul, I want to proclaim,
For which I m ready to bear any condemnation any blame.
I just want to be a little bit of me,
And want my own space in the kingdom of thee,
Is that too much I am asking for
Is that too much I am seeking for
Is that too much which can never be
Right to be self directed right to be free….
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