By Nivedita P
I build my cages. I clip my wings.
I see the sky – only to sigh.
“Where’s your strength ??”, you ask.
“Lying dormant”, I say.
“Dormant under centuries of conditioning.
Sleeping under blankets of ignorance.
Hiding behind my “ME Later” stand…” I sigh.
“Well dormant is a small word”, I correct myself.
“I think it’s dead.
But it does come back to visit me.
Oh so often.
Like a ghoul !
Just to bewitch me into dreaming of impossible states of existences.”
I sigh again. And the patriarchy in him bursts out laughing.
By Nivedita P
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