They peeled off my white coat
They rolled up and locked in my masters
They were not of my blood
Yet they could make me walk on a thread.
They forced on me adornments
Glittering robes and glistening shades
I could just scream at the figure
Staring at me from the mirror.
I am no more the girl of books
I am ‘the woman ‘ of a new house
Dream no more for you,they said,
Dream for your baby and his world.
Though ladles replaced my pens,
Though the broom replaced my books,
I stood firmer than ever
For I have built with fantasies,a tower.
An intriguing narrative voice that seems to be describing a domestic scene from a relationship with overtones of a tangible unease.
This is great!
The pain trying to be the ink is the most powerful, very nice!
Thank you Louis,Hullerj and Sangeethaji for your valuable comments.Am honoured.
nice:)
Thank you Marie Annie.It’s really encouraging.
Again the capitalist society shows its hegemony,and again the target is fair sex. . .but she is no longer now a nightingale. .she has metamorphosed into a hawk that sees the vision of a possible better future. . .Her life force can’t be suppressed.she is the new woman.she is going to break the shackles of social tyrrany..all this is typified by the last line.and there i think that the title is misleading. . .she is not a woman but a superwoman. . .it is not blood but white milk that runs through her veins!