My Woman Cried: Stop the Abuse of Women by Fiza Pathan

My Woman Cried: Stop the Abuse of Women
by Fiza Pathan

Dear lady of womanhood divine why do you cry?

We worship you sweet lady in our lotus womb of semblance;

Yet you weep to tears of blood depart from our love,

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

They gang raped you magnificent lady within the pit so dark,

I was a witness but turned my eye to the blindness of indifference;

Now in blood soaked you lie tainted on the soil of our land,

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

Molested your sari is tattered into rags upon your flesh,

You veil your scars in black and blue but don’t I see them always;

Speak gentle one within the serenity of a mother’s lost song,

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

They beat you infront of the throng for a crime unfit to blame,

They abort your baby girl from your womb till you bleed again;

I am not a counsel to you dearest of mine heart for I sin,

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

Cover your face in shame and lower your broken self to the ground,

Beg pardon dear femininity but did I see a pearl drop from your eye;

You are kicked in the womb and violated in the cavity of the lonely,

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

Beg not mercy from the Divine for none renders as He,

Comfort your girl child not to wander in the demon’s wilderness;

Bring your girls home to me so that I may pay homage to them,

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

Beggary steals the innocence from your ebony face,

Multiple wounds cry out to me in the dead of pain’s singular moan;

How can I bear to see you naked and mirthless like this?

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

Low caste you say so is violation without consent is final?

You burn in the fire of self-immolation to curse my love for you;

Cover yourself at once for danger lurks in the form of violence,

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

The leprosy of womanhood you do possess in quality,

But evil beings search for your nude flesh in quantity;

You suffer the crucifixion of the race born with milk to feed,

My woman cried because I let her soul die.

Mother darling dove so fair yet there are puss boils upon your back,

Inferior you are to a minority who have not respected your dignity;

To you I vow to die before they will ever make me kneel,

My woman will not cry for my soul one day when I will die for her.

 Copyright ©2015 Fiza Pathan

Image courtesy: Google images

http://www.sabc.co.za/news/a/fb925f0040db1d90b9eab9434f2981a1/Centre-set-to-empower-abused-CPT-women-20132508