Some women hold stories,
Close to their bosom;
Stories so grave,
they believe,
It could cause a ripple effect,
And upturn the balance of life,
If repeated.
My mother- was one such.
She’d sigh at length and go off,
Staring,
Into space…
Oblivious to three munchkins,
laying on the ground,
Competing,
Who’s got,
The healthiest lung.
She’d go off sometimes,
At the sight-
Of a man in a red shirt,
Or a yell across the street,
Or something so little as,
An innocent question put forward,
By a kid.
My father would say-
Just let her be.
And so I grew older-
Mastered in the art of
Threading lightly;
Till my curiosity,
got the better of me;
And I questioned-
Why does she do that?
That summer morning,
I learnt of the horrors,
Of a young black girl,
Growing up with little to nothing,
At the edge of the sea;
Where being a dark skin,
had a price and being a female-
A burden.
And I knew why, she held those stories
Close to her bosom.
Prompts: Day 9 (a story), Day 10 (Summer). This poem is in response to December Poetry Challenge. 31 poems in 31 days.
the above picture is courtesy of Legend.az
What a fine wordsmith you are! Lovely.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Awww thank you very much Aakansha. I appreciate it.
LikeLike
Wow ! I read this thrice !! This is so hauntingly beautiful , the last line gave me goosebumps.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you very much Shreya, you are a darling 😄. I appreciate it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your poetry is as beautiful as you yourself are Ameena . You’re very welcome ! xx
LikeLike
A strong and beautiful poem.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you very much 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ahhh. This is so good 😢
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you! 😄👏
LikeLike
Very nice! I didn’t think you could write anything to make me like the Depression one better, but this might be it 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you very much. I appreciate it. It’s amazing to see you’ve been keeping tabs 😄
LikeLike
Grace in prose!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you 😄
LikeLiked by 1 person
OH Ameena! Your last stanza got me! Great job!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you very much Joy. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Looove this. Your rhythm and line breaks are superb.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Jade. 😄 I’m now liking this writing style.
LikeLiked by 1 person
May I know your other social media addresses? Would love to connect with this beautiful soul:)
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hi Zubiya. My twitter handle is @WordsOfARandom. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful Ameena.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you very much Trae
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, I keep coming back for more. Well done on your writing on a very touching subject. Best. Chevvy
LikeLiked by 2 people
Haha, please do keep coming back. Thank you 😄
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very well written Ameena. And I love the POV through a child’s eye. Not understanding her Mom, until older when she finds out the horrible truth. Discrimination is an awful thing be it racism or sexism or anything else. And the way people think they can act because they judge/discriminate can be simply abhorring. There is great meaning in your poem. Poor Mother.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you Mandi. I wanted to leave it to the reader to come to conclusion regarding the mother’s story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
She is a survivor of unspeakable deeds, and still standing. So we’ll qfitten.
LikeLiked by 2 people
…..’So well written’.. sorry, my finger went nuts.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Aw no worries, It happens to me too 😄. And thank you very much. You said it right- she is a survivor!
LikeLike
wow!!! this is amazing, loved it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you very much 😊
LikeLike