Like Fragile Things

Hey Steemit

I know that the world has evolved on it's take on women's rights, yet it has a long way to go. Often when I ride through the smaller nooks of India I think of my experience as a privilege rather than a right of my freewill because I meet those who are deprived of it. Usually the women are deprived of education and their life revolves around the household responsibilities and she takes them up as a daughter and carries on when being passed on as a wife. I value my freewill even more dearly when I see them looking at me from the corner of their eyes through their sheer stoles around their face. The poem 'Like Fragile Things' is my imagination of their thoughts.

Like Fragile Things

For the longest time I thought I was made of clay
I held strong against the heat and water seeped through me, nay.
Sometimes I was molded into an object of affection
But mostly confined, to not cause any friction.

"My angel, no harm shall come to you"
Were mere words and a few
It means nothing when I stare down at my burnt fingers and brittle feet
And hear the taunts that ensue.

Entitled to only stolen glances
My freewill was theirs
Passed on like fragile things
But expected to prance.

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