Feminism

Feminism

                                        picture: Women with raised hands image coutesy: EPW Feminism is the radical notion that women are...

Saturday 5 April 2014

Older

The veins on my arms
like the cobwebs of a hundred spiders
left behind by receding time.

The wrinkles on my face:
the dunes of sand
carved out by the tides.

Moments pass, turn into eternity.
I age, turn into my mother;
pain amplifies in my limbs
then turns sublime.

The mind sharpens its claws
Blurs the lines
I'm a little girl in your presence
At others, a goddess divine.

The misery becomes companiable,
like a long lost friend,
met after a span of time.
who understands my mind.

The fag end stretches before me beckons, and I walk
homeward bound.
Memories mingle with hope.

"Over-the-hill,
past my prime" I may be told,
But the mind plays tricks.
It claims, I'll be fine,
I will trump time.

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