Impromptu - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
Women in ice you four maidens,
Frigid cold, whose curse though!
Found naked by, none know,
Or the beloved who had become,
Rock with unkempt grass your hair
A woman who wished to become stone,
When revealed her out to the lover's gaze -
Shed the ice, and slowly melt,
Your exterior in silk be your sublime grace,
Or walk the walls, of centuries old,
Your pitcher break, refuse to fetch,
From down the hill waters though
Create and spin, your fertility,
Rites of birth, celebrations unbridle,
O break the tides of the ruinous now
Invent a future, on liberty's throes.
-On an impromptu call to write on four women iced, by Nadine Jessel.
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