She wears a blackened face
With her head lowered
A clear sign of disgrace
For in her home she has no place
Her swollen red eyes
She does look worldly wise
But remains penniless
And is virtually homeless
Who could she be
Abandoned by her family
She is yesterday's young bride
Remember her groom died
She is the unfortunate victim
Of a very deep superstition
That widows only bring ill luck
A reputation with which she is stuck
No villager will support her
She will be treated like a leper
Her fate was after all pre-decided
On this public opinion is undivided
you have brought out the sad plight of women in India in a simple style, with empathy, suppressed anger and helplessness. Mamta
Sandra, pleased to have learned something from your well written poem. Regards, Ian
a well encapsulated poem written true to the genre and telling a tragic tale with simplicity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a very hurting superstition...india is full of it