FEMININE STRENGTH
Subbuswami Krishnamurthy
Her frail frame,
Covertly covered her sorrows with smiles,
Concealed courage in her heart’s debris.
“Frailty, Thy name is women. How true!
With family finances feeble,
Rejected by reluctant grooms,
Teased by society’s bad - blood,
listless: she prayed for power and peace.
In the Kitchen’s corner, one day,
a big fly escaped the lizard’s leap.
“O, Robert Bruce!” “my day has dawned”.
A signal for swift and stern action.
No more sorrowful submission,
Now a resurgent rebel.
Bruised and belligerent,
she spelt her own terms.
The world woke up to woo her words:
The powers that be spotted her
for sheer openness
of an outraged war – cry,
against society’s sinful silence.
She spoke, sermonised
as the media eulogised.
Busy like a bumble - bee
from dawn to dusk,
enlivening the miserable myriads,
endearing to those emancipated not yet
Life is a tough tournament
like cricket with fluctuating fortunes,
square - cut the ball beyond the boundary.
This she realised and won thereafter.