Sitting with palms folded and fingers interlocked
holding a dropping chin
I watch my Grandfather Clock in front of me.
The second hand is making its journey,
Tedious- very used to this path,
a regular for years and years since it was born.
What else ? The legs are chained.
Eighth of March , International Womens day!
I sit with my eyes sometimes closed and sometimes open
watching the movement of the clock’s hand.
My open eyes are always aware
of the pain in the joints,
the extra fat and the medical reports.
The whys and wherefores of
yesterdays struggles and tomorrow chores.
Aware of the anxieties of the woman in the house,
in the farm and on the sidewalk,
selling fish or mangoes or fragrance of Jasmine.
Like the hands of the clock,
slaves of limits and space.
My closed eyes follow the rhythm
of the ticking clock and my mind swims away
from the cacophony of impositions
into my fairytale world of make-belief castles
and handsome princes breaking bracken
to land life-giving kisses
on unsuspecting lips in some lonesome land.
My closed eyes make me a Rapunzel
or a sorceress Medusa;
soft and feminine and strong and vengeful,
spitting venom- at once.
I ride on my Pegasus and meet Wendy Witch
to discuss politics and the welfare of the sea.
I come back to you my Mothers
and swim in the painful milk flooding from your breasts.
Eighth of March, International Womens’ Day
I owe my mind to you.
I see the hands of the clock scream
in voiceless agony like the mangled bodies
raging voiceless and bloody
in the desert lands with their pleasures cut
and shamed like Philomel in the myths.
Look, the clock is melting again,
years after the painter and years after
my Mothers leant their heat.
At once, with my eyes open and closed
I feel the burden of making me
and giving myself a voice.
Photo Credit
The Persistence of Memory – (c) Salvador Dali – posted on the site in accordance with fair use principles.
Guest Author Bio
Dr Shruti Das
Dr Shruti Das is Associate professor English in the P.G. Department of English, Berhampur University in Odisha, India. She is a creative writer with poetry published Nationally and Internationally and also a literary critic, writing bilingually in English and her native tongue Odia. She has published two collection of poems named “A Daughter Speaks (2013)” and “Lidless Eyes(2015)” has been published in Anthologies like “Inspired Heart 2″, “Inspired Heart 3”, “Scaling Heights” and “Colours of Refuge” to name a few. She has participated in many Seminars on English language and literature in India and Europe. She is sensitive to social issues, loves to travel and to dream. She loves animals.
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There are so many thoughts about women but none have moved me as much as Shruti Das’ on International Women’s Day. It’s unusual metaphors heighten the essence of being a woman — the glory and the grind, as nothing has before.
Thank you Shruti for the beautiful thoughts.
A woman is indeed marvellous.This poem will make every woman proud, it reveals that nobody can imagine what she can endure and overcome. There are greater poets than Shruti Das but none more original because she sees things with a fresh approach. Much of it is beautiful without being difficult. lyricism, symbolism, imagery and native fervour, are the remarkable qualities of her poetry.
Wow!Awesome imagery.Every line had a certain weight to it.
It is an eloquent portrayal of feminine sensibilities. This poem seems to pose a question to every educated woman: “Is having feminine sympathies enough?” Discussing about myriads of problems that women face is not enough. As the poet says: “I see the hands of the clock scream in voiceless agony…. I feel the burden of making me and giving myself a voice.” It’s time to take a leap and walk the talk. Women in the state of voiceless agony are not listening to our discussions nor are waiting for a handsome prince. It’s a call for women’s fraternity to hold out their hand and be the voice of voiceless. It’s time for the phoenix to rise.
It’s the true voice of Womanhood. The poem is very thoughtful and emotional -rich with full of imagery and thoughtful dictions. There is a very beautiful blending between ‘the naked reality’ of life and the fantasy of a woman.
Really it’s a great message to the entire mankind. Thank you so much ma’am for creating this wonderful poem.
A strong metaphorical account – between the reality and fantasy of womanhood