Indus
The Indus valley has born forth a child,
So it was pronounced
When my mother was born.
Her hair is like liquid India ink.
Her eyes are black opals.
She is a tigress,
And a peacock.
She was an enchantress from birth.
Born from Kings
To bear future Kings.
She
is forever the epitome of royalty.
After she matured
Legends of her beauty
Were famous in far reaches of the world.
The rich enchantress,
A budding promise of everything.
The stupid child
Left her innocent door open.
To the one entity who
Snuck into the castle,
Robbed her and raped her,
Left her with no pride, humanity, or dignity.
The result of the assault
She bore two sons.
They came into the world
Bringing forth a river of destruction colored red with blood.
Having their father's black soul
They grew up to sell their mother
Into prostitution.
And, from that day on
She only bore daughters.
These little sisters
Were abused and
Used by their brothers
And could only become
What was their reality.
Never did they know
Their true potential.
Never did they feel
Pride, Joy, love, humanity, or humility.
My mother is dying
My brothers kill each other every day.
My mother is dying
My sisters are surviving the only reality
They know.
My Heritage, my grandfather,
My brothers have killed.
And, now they want to
Erase my memory.
The Indus valley had born forth a child.
She is dead,
So, we are all dying
poem by Rabia Minhas
Added by Poetry Lover
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