Fluids by Priyanka Banerjee

No masculine grandeur can create the myth of feminine fear!

“We all are equal, dear!”,

Cries out the wanderer,

Hiding behind the veil of distorted history of the crippled panther.

   My mirror resists your visibility, solemnity, insolent nostalgia!

Crumbling branches of Native oak trees give birth to the ancient abode of choked-up silence.

    Two voiceless souls exchange promises.

The night bird sings the last song

Stirring up the vibrant, warm centre

Of the earth.

       Dissipated thoughts give birth to the divided mind’s shared love. The Emerging feminine Paradise is no more inhabited by tempestuous Jove.

        Smooth mouth’s uncouth gesture –

Victory in love is like the washed shore.

The half-dark melting moon sings the mother’s lore.

       The resurrected soul still clings to the shameless image 

Of half perished identity!

My muse loves to play with heartbeats, covered cunning eyes,

Dust that desperately shine.

       I challenge the dilapidated tomb’s fragmented structure, freezing icy water, 

The green snake’s forbidden bower!

      ” We all are equal, dear!”

I retreat; I leap up; I inherit feminine grandeur –

Fluids no more touch my soul.

I can engulf fire.

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