What are little girl's lives made of?
Not sugar, nor spice
Nothing quite so nice.
In the snug darkness of your womb,
When you stealthily sensed my presence,
You tore me out in haste,
Long before my term
And snuffed out my little life
As if I was a worm.
Elsewhere... in some nameless village,
On a hot and dusty morn,
I announce with a lusty cry,
'Mother I am Born'
But you sing a dirge to me,
With tears my body you soak,
You feed me husk with milk
And dig my grave as I choke.
Did you never yearn my mother,
To feel my soft curls in your arms
Or press fierce against my cheeks
As you fall to their dimpled charms?
Or kiss my little hands,
That hugs you so tight in sleep
Or bless my grateful heart
That loves you ever so deep!
Mother, I am your flesh and blood, not regret,
No mirage you choose to forget,
Grant me a life; I am your daughter,
Not a blunder in your quest for my brother!
Asha Mathew
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/musings-of-a-nameless-soul/
