Taking my roots off

Taking my roots off

Mother has a beautiful girl

The sky my colourful shawl

The mirror with all its glittering

Owes me a mouthful of smile

A lump in my throat 

Worried of the salty food 

Ever know the feeling 

A free woman has

When forced

A free woman when forced

To give herself to a man 

She doesn’t long for?

A man whose response 

To a smile

If ever, Is silence?

A free woman who understands 

Life is not jubilant at all

So much longing she has 

Not for sex and bearing sons though.

Should she feel sorry 

 for a husband 

With no work

An ailing mother

A brother in despair

Or like the father’s burning cigarette?

Razors yearning the taste of her lips

Friends running after her

dagger in hand.

The pills no more ease her fever

The moon no more

On the veranda at night

Decadent she is called

For the cigarette she smokes.

No cuddle of love 

Leaning on a scarecrow 

Combing a doll’s hair

To quench her motherly urge.

Suddenly, tired of all

Hand in hand with madness 

Breaks the Afghan honor 

Runs out of the house.

Waiting people to accuse 

Waiting wolves outside the door

Darkened road in wait

Danger across road in road 

Waiting for her, no one.

Running to dig her own grave

Behind the unfinished poem

Coiling in a corner

And fast asleep

Closed is the kitchen.

Too long is this worthless tale

Splashing water on her face 

Wearing a dress of ivies

Lipstick of deep rose.

The wind combing my hair

Two birds fly from my collar

Dancing like a butterfly 

Taking all the old roots out.

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