Living Idol
Her face is black and shiny
Like a just burnished ebony
When Sun rays swept
Into beads of her cold sweat
Hundred more Suns did reflect
At once, glowing bright
Her toil since childhood
Bestowed her the best shape
To make jealous any Miss World
Her rhythmic movements
While at work or when
She does simply walk
Can sure invoke poetic zest
To follow her elegant gait
To run eloquent into metrical beats
Those countless tears and holes in her sari
Struggling to cover her raw, rustic beauty
Are like windows to her explicit misery
Her total muliebrity so natural
Like a leaf amongst leaves
A flower amongst flowers
Flowing like a gushing waterfall
No wild surmises about her
She is not a glittering cine-star
Nor a cover girl on a tabloid
But, a very common Indian maiden
One of several millions seen
Anywhere in our dear Nation
Paddy fields, labor yards or fish ponds
Salt pans, spinning mills or gold mines
As omnipotent as poverty
Reigning high in this great country
Where womanhood is worshipped
As Goddess Adi Para Shakhty
The holy Generatrix deity
Governess of the whole universe with piety
But in blood and flesh her earthly body
Seen as sheer sex symbol only
By those eyes of leering lechery
She is an oppressed grace
Of God's choicest creativity
She is an ever- drudging human gender
Serving vainglory husbands
And a desecrated living Idol
In a ravaged humane temple
Sathya…….
poem by Sathya Narayana
Added by Poetry Lover
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