Friday, February 22, 2008

Building a memorial for fallen heroes

Where women fall,

There the grass grows.

Greener for the fertility.


They fall

Acid burnt,

Charred,

Cut to pieces (sometimes cooked),

Beaten,

Bloody,

Diseased,

Violated,

Unloved,

Objectified,

Vilified,

Demonized,

Haunted,

Taunted,

Deluding,

Where women fall,

There the grass grows.

Greener for the fertility.

Disabled femininity

disfigured bodies

forsaken womanhood,

yet our wombs cry,

tears of blood,

our bellies yearns to swell,

our breasts crave to feed,

our stumpy arms long to caress,

the flesh of our flesh, blood of our blood,

but our femininity is lost among the dark sludge of your morality.


We long for love, to give it,

to feel it grow within,

our mauled bodies refuses to accept us, an afterthought,

so we shred the days and nights to seconds,

grope within the crevices,

and pray to be found,

all we come up with are spirogyra like desires,

leeches that suck the aspirations from our souls,

for our femininity is lost among the dark sludge of your morality.


I wrote this poem after a heard that a severely disabled girl had become pregnant, out of wedlock, and the ruckus this created within her family and an NGO on disability that interacted with her. The sexuality of women with disability is an unaddressed question. Most people believe that women with disability have no right to love or be loved. We fail to realize that a women with physical disabilities is just that, physically disabled, and it does not automatically imply a mental, emotional, spiritual or psychological disability. We, non disabled people do not loose an opportunity to sit in judgment of persons with disability and ram our opinions on them.

Untitled

I know not what made you,
when,
how.

All I know is I feel the sting,
here,
now.


3rd October 05