An evocative, gender-centric poem, by Parvathy, exclusively for Different Truths.
How do women set my writing on flame? When most of them are afraid of fire! When most of them turn to ashes, the time they are living as living specimens. When many of them, I have known near have irreparably set damage on me As though, I too should fear the fire. And keep cold, near to the man they propose Yet again, a few men have been so. When she loved the hibiscus in the yard Though red roses – would crown her like a queen and the thorns, did make her blood hot. The pain a porcupine would give, but effortless giving it was so was the love she knew that filled her mind and body, with no due respect. Because she is a woman The woman – made by the woman around And who did propose her man to her And ever did her blood run cold. Yet, she gave the longing and her eyes sparkled Like a shining star – twinkling, twinkling, and twinkling, and it was the hope of the coming years.
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