Time streams by
On the golden hour,
She muses on the
Darkness inside.
Impaled on a crux
Of the judgemental
Populace, She bears
Her scars unafraid.
Condemned to live
In fear of oblivion
A curse worse than
Death of the cage.
Her wings they
Flutter as the air
Beseeches her soul
To breathe out.
Despair hung forth
Darkening a twilight
Of memories that melt
On the hands of time.
Right and wrong blur
The lines of control
Lawlessness in its prime
Holds the fort of reason.
Love percolates into
Her soul again, slow,
Diffuse dance of light
Into a reflecting mirror.
What is inside now
Reveals the outward
Fascination that life
Offers her this dawn.
She holds her head
Up high and strong
A tendril in a field
So green and bold.
Words and thoughts
Now tumble forth anew,
Flowing down the pen,
Inked in remembrance.
Yes, there is a perceptible change in today's woman and this has been beautifully portrayed. What is inside now / Reveals the outward Fascination that life / Offers her this dawn. She holds her head / Up high and strong
Thank you for your wonderful comment. Yes, I have tried to portray the subtle nuances of change in contemporary way of thinking. :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nostalgia induced. thank you (Tan Theta)
Thank you very much.. :)