The moment she is born
She is met with hatred and scorn
What a waste!
She will not take ahead the race!
Grows up She with each passing year
Epitome of Beauty
Epitome of Grace
One generous smile…
And She is stamped a disgrace!!
Married then to a Man
Man! Oh! The mighty, Almighty Man!
Tramples Her and tosses Her
Over and over
Yet She! She chooses to live on!
Doubt, Spite, Venom
All hurled at Her
Made to walk the fire
Not once, not twice
But to everyone else’s heart’s desire!
Yet She loves, nurtures
Yet She cares
Carries the world on Her shoulders
Walks the fire again and over
But to Give is all She cares!
If a conscience you nurse within,
Ask and ask with conviction –
How many times must a Woman lay on the pier?
How many times must a Woman walk the Fire?
