Rising From Ruins Poem by Saroj Padhi

Days' and nights' of fall have puffed
your body with fill of stale rain
letting moisture of anxiety
explode in the air like some bio-bomb
scaring people of some imminent collapses —
of walls or old roofs or of relationships
built on the base of selfish enjoyments.
Skeletons drop from the community's cupboard
when girl children are treated as witches in womb;
words scripted in male hands
whip women into a strange silence;
and we, the timid folks squirm
into a corner of our old houses in fresh ruins
smelling of damp love where we huddle
under leaking polythene roof,
not knowing in our tiredness
when love was thrust upon us
under the cruel gaze of some ominous stars
until the blood-red moon revealed some pathetic wounds
between our stained thighs
and a ghastly horror in our estranged eyes.
Failing to hold my fragile breath
in the midst of noises from the street
mocking my painful retreat,
I turn into a hibernating toad under the ruins
that think of my better days in the offing
therefore, of hope do I so firmly sing.