I The Woman Poem by VEDA ARTHA

Flipping through the pages of ancient story
I knew that paradise lost is my fault.
Across the ocean of mythologies
I had seen mistake is feminine
in form or matter, it should be me.
While listening to the folklore
I heard accusations in banal
That from me the fire started
and burnt of strands of a nation.
Destruction is said to be supreme domain
of nature and that too have the fair skin.
Anger was in zenith on those creative works
which spoke about the freedom of my class.
Yes I am the angry woman who had been
suppressed, depressed, used and thrown
away from the freedom of life.
So if you say that I was, is and will
be bad, violent, agitating, demanding
You are right as the room for all those
negotiation, compromise is gone forever.