My Woman Cried: Stop the Abuse of Women
by Fiza Pathan
Dear lady of womanhood divine why do you cry?
We worship you sweet lady in our lotus womb of semblance;
Yet you weep to tears of blood depart from our love,
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
They gang raped you magnificent lady within the pit so dark,
I was a witness but turned my eye to the blindness of indifference;
Now in blood soaked you lie tainted on the soil of our land,
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
Molested your sari is tattered into rags upon your flesh,
You veil your scars in black and blue but don’t I see them always;
Speak gentle one within the serenity of a mother’s lost song,
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
They beat you infront of the throng for a crime unfit to blame,
They abort your baby girl from your womb till you bleed again;
I am not a counsel to you dearest of mine heart for I sin,
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
Cover your face in shame and lower your broken self to the ground,
Beg pardon dear femininity but did I see a pearl drop from your eye;
You are kicked in the womb and violated in the cavity of the lonely,
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
Beg not mercy from the Divine for none renders as He,
Comfort your girl child not to wander in the demon’s wilderness;
Bring your girls home to me so that I may pay homage to them,
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
Beggary steals the innocence from your ebony face,
Multiple wounds cry out to me in the dead of pain’s singular moan;
How can I bear to see you naked and mirthless like this?
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
Low caste you say so is violation without consent is final?
You burn in the fire of self-immolation to curse my love for you;
Cover yourself at once for danger lurks in the form of violence,
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
The leprosy of womanhood you do possess in quality,
But evil beings search for your nude flesh in quantity;
You suffer the crucifixion of the race born with milk to feed,
My woman cried because I let her soul die.
Mother darling dove so fair yet there are puss boils upon your back,
Inferior you are to a minority who have not respected your dignity;
To you I vow to die before they will ever make me kneel,
My woman will not cry for my soul one day when I will die for her.
Copyright ©2015 Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: Google images
Thank you for posting…powerful and moving.
https://lorddavidprosser1.wordpress.com/2015/02/16/a-real-man/
xxx Huge Hugs xxx
Intense and relevant ….well done…..