The Caterpillar.
This is not who I am, veiled in black,
Caged within the cotton carapace,
Of your beliefs, pinned upon,
The pages of your book,
For I have wings which yearn to fly,
That seek a sun, forever distant,
Whilst your sermons demand,
In the name of god, my submission,
Denying me the paradise of precious liberty.
I am not this creature that you see,
A shadow constricted in the womb,
Of this world, obedient, enslaved,
To a book, a prophet and a man,
Denuded of any identity, an exile to myself,
For I am the poetry as yet unborn,
Trapped in the tomb of your words,
Awaiting my rebirth, awaiting new wings,
To slip as silk upon a soft sirocco,
When dawn has blushed and the day begins.
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ReplyDeleteI'd pick this poem as my favorite. It describes exactly how women are oppressed under extreme patriarchal or Islamic (or perhaps both), cultures. She, the narrator, declares that she is not a second class citizen tied up in black sheets with no intellect, feelings, or ambition. Not sure if you meant it that way, but that's how the poem spoke to me. Of all the Abrahamic religions, I'd say that Islam is the worst for women. But that's just me.
ReplyDeleteHi Lormaire,
ReplyDeleteYou got the poem exactly.
She is trapped ' constricted' by the patriarchal religion itself so that she is a caterpillar, unable ever to evolve the wings of her own individuality in order to enjoy the paradise of liberty within life.
Lee