It was never her choice,
to be into the red gallows.
Body sold in the witching hour,
forsaking her hemorrhaged soul,
she moves on.
Twitching in pain,
scars of yesterday's lust,
squashing the very being out of her,
yet she bounces back in the morning.
A wife and a mother,
her own choice,
her only aberration,
falling in love with a man,
who placed her under the red light,
with harrowing nights.
Just for the livelihood of her family,
which her man should have given,
she sold herself every day.
The lusty eyes,
that could have grazed upon the innocent,
she cools that lust off,
at the cost of her nights.
Today she is at crossroads,
her man being bludgeoned to death.
She ran from one hospital to another,
with her mate writhing in pain.
God - speed said few of her clan,
from the crimson gallows.
Succumbed he did,
with the setting sun.
Disowned by society,
and now by protectors of law too,
She stood there perplexed.
Benumbing silence engulfed her,
She held two arms tight,
better or worse life would enfold,
unaware, unperturbed she stood there,
a defying silence,
chilling the soul.
It was not her choice,
to be pushed into the red gallows,
now with two innocent souls,
walking along by her side,
On these roads!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem