By
Saheli Mitra
BLOODY MERRY
So it was all but one.
When all had rushed
to capture your beauty,
daring their lens on hills and towers,
It was only I, who saw you bleeding.
Your silver shine
Caressed not a peaceful heart,
Soothed not a hurtful soul,
but mirrored the trickling blood
of a severed limb of my Earth,
ravaged by bloody wars.
Terror knife knocking
at your silent slumber,
Your lost rabbit
perching on wings of a fairytale,
Singed in trickling blood of a child’s smile
ripped by some victory bomb.
So, it was all but you,
who cried as others rejoiced in awe,
Viewing a rare sight,
Daring the night,
On meadows and parks.
It was only I, who saw you crying,
Shedding tears for me and my wretched paradise,
O! my Blood Moon.
PAID FREEDOM
From the dark caverns of the womb to the nutritious milk of the breasts,
From the closed gates of a school to the dreamy corridors of a college,
From the demands of a fiery kitchen to the shouts of a workplace,
From the shackles of a failed marriage to the penury of widowhood —
I had always paid for my freedom.
In pain and in tears, my mother paid the doctor
to conceal my sex,
Giving me form from her grave of dreams.
I paid for my freedom to be born.
In choice and in voice, paid the father
With daily chores to let me go to school.
I paid for my freedom to study.
In sex and in love, paid the partner
To let me pursue my passions,
I paid for my freedom to follow my dreams.
In old age and in sickness, paid my son
To let me stay with him,
I paid for my freedom to live.
Oh! gorgeous freedom, flying on the wings of Tradewinds
sighing through the meadows free.
Ruffling the feathers on Westerlies
unconquerable as can be.
Dancing like the damsel flies on grassroots growing free,
Gushing down the gurgling brook
breaking the mossy rocks free.
Barter me your freedom
That’s really free,
For I paid for my freedom
To live my life free.
Both poems burn me as I read them. The first with the blindness of so many sets me up for the payment extracted to be a free woman. Such pain.