It makes me proud to see your heart
Beat for women, all torn apart
You sense the paradox of their lives
There
is anger at the social lies
An edgy status, a secondary citizen
Despite their elitist education
Prickly, constant and inbuilt
This shattering sense of eternal guilt
That adjustment, compromise and appeasement
Will be her grandest statement
And should she dare to veer any
There better be an engine many
While you perceive this with appal
Aflame at the unfairness of it all
You forget to extend that charity
To
the shuffling piece of maternity
Her tear bounces off your arrogance
Of the cord there’s a certain severance
As though a boning with the Bowie
Spare her this dear God, she is my baby
Defunct and desolate she might seem
Bright but bitter in basic theme
The one you ladle wisdom to
Was once as fiery and free as you!
Note:All pics of the whiz baker and Asawari's Serb home-stay Mom Nada, taken by Aqseer.
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