*Women's day*
Cold winds blew through the silent streets,
A woman passed by, with a raised heartbeat;
It seemed as if she saw lurking a shadow,
Hearing footsteps, as a dreadful incident to follow:
"Help, me! Save me!" became 'Her' battlecry henceforth.
If a woman passed by with her head held high,
She may trip if 'they' pulled her down,
With a slow whistle combatted by vulgarism,
Stepping closer, as a dreadful incident to follow:
"Help, me! Save me!" became 'Her' battlecry henceforth.
Such has become the life of women,
Oblivious, anonymous, which isn't simple.
Being a victim of assaults and teasing,
Care, empathy towards 'Her' gradually ceasing.
'She', being dominated by a patriarchal society,
Thus, the consequences often turn out rash and bloody.
Anger filling up like a fuel on fire,
Animosity, indolence, frustration conspire.
But, 'She' is not powerless, speechless is she not,
Wake up from your deep slumber and
Force to 'open' your eyes,
Stepping ahead, dispiriting misogynists:
Protecting and nourishing every woman who cries!
YOU ARE READING
Being Feministic
PoetryWomen are the outstanding forbearers and protagonists in our life. They should be respected, cared and valued for. This poem shows the very essence of feminism and the perpetual subjugation, sexual assaults, eve-teasing which a woman undergoes throu...
