You smile like you do not want to be hurt
you are afraid of not being responsible
to the children
who you pretend to garner
and guide, knowingly,
pretentiously into a world
you have woven
with such subtle doubt
You cry yourself to bed
after you put your only daughter to sleep
and look into the black night ahead
with silver moons under your eyes
tired and dreaming of love
You watch a film and smile a sober smile
then walk slowly to clean up after
dinner
and stare a stolen gaze
like your eyes are not yours and your
reflection isn’t yours to stare
you stand carefully
with your arms close to your chest
and avert your inferior gaze to something less
intimidating
than the man who owns your dreams
In a world run by proud men and their afraid wives
You forgot how to say no
and sit there, comprehending
the arrested state of your being
your soul,
somewhere up in the September clouds
just above your home sweet home.
–to those whose dreams are deemed invalid.
to the warrior women of India.