SHE

Gifting her the worth of being a mother

And being unaware of the outer world,

‘She’ enjoyed the warmth of the watery cushion;

Closing her eyes and feeding along.

Growing in a small pace,

Her  tiny limbs kicked gently;

And the bearer unaware of the sex, she beholding;

Became strong and capable enough to love and care;

Dressed up in a smile, without conveying the uncomfortability caused;

Rather relishing the magic of the silently growing foetus.

The magic of smile turns into the magic of mourn,

On the day ‘She’ is born.

‘She’  seems a load too heavy to bear,

Even to the woman, she belongs.

The woman disdaining her own identity, let go off the magic to the world

Without  even realizing her own days in the watery cushion.