For He, who is my beloved, His name is mine,
And who I consider worthy and fine,
I am but a woman, married and given away,
Not a voice to be heard, not a word to say.
Being a dutiful wife, was my only aim,
Yet I was sufficed as the pawn of the game,
And how I suffered, yet kept mum,
Becoming a sentiment of laughter for some.
And all the men and women would pass by,
Yet none could hear me sigh,
And when the sun shone on the sun pavel,
They passed comments with a new label.
For I was stone, but not a stone hearted lad,
I forgave the man who wished me bad,
My love is my worship, and dutifully I abide,
My heart, my temple where my God shall reside.
If Sita could be abandoned, in masses behold,
What value does one's purity and it's proof hold,
But I am no Goddess, I am just a woman, no one's to keep,
No one's to be abandoned, no one's to weep.
If Panchali couldn't seek protection in her own home,
What should I ask for and in what chrome,
And I am yet a creature, so docile and meek,
That generations will remember my name as someone weak.
YOU ARE READING
Pristine Love - Poems of Divine Adoration
Poetry"Destiny clearly has a great and magical role in the coming together of two hearts which are meant to be together and beat as one." What does Love feel like? It must be truly divine for my heart beats with rhythm at the mention of My Beloved. Yes, L...
