SHE

The house is full of cries

She is born

Beautiful, soft, like a dream

Her little fingers curled

Her pink face peaceful

As she feels secured

Bundled up in her mother’s arms

Unaware of the attempts

That was made to kill her

Even before she felt alive

And now she is born.

She is like water

Colourless, adaptable

She is living

As others want her to

She has dreams she treasures

But she keeps them hidden

Secured under the chains of her strength

She is growing

And so are her restrictions

And her responsibilities

At the age of 14

She is half a woman already

She knows her house, her people

As good as her own self

But her, she is surrounded

In the pitch black darkness

Of anonymous identity

And she keeps growing

she lives so many identities

but her own

A woman is born

She is blessed

With a white face

And darkness