A deserted battlefield


 

A deserted road yawns its displeasure
as I creep along its side
on hands and knees
lest they notice I am alive
My skin already brown, still clothed
to match their dusty tyre tracks
My hair camouflaged so as
not to raise their hackles
if their roving eyes notice me
Alive in a softer form
drawing ire for daring to breathe
in their presence
I who suckled them
infusing colour into their frail bodies
must now tremble
draped in black?
My savaged core
no longer sheds tears
I have paid up in full
the penalty for bearing and loving monsters
and soon they will walk the empty streets
as symbols of wretched, inhuman egos
as mutilators of the female flesh
having failed to subdue my spirit
having failed to dim my light
clutching leaking wombs that fail to register
their puny thrusts.

©Reena prasad 23rd Dec 2012

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