She is looked at not as an object,
Not at all a means to please him,
But as the life producing mother.
She has faced no physical abuse,
Not any sort of emotional either,
But respected if not worshipped.
She looks happily in the mirror,
Not to find her mascara ruined,
But admires it & longs for tears.
She stands as equals with them,
Not as assistant but participant,
But equally women & men live.
She also eats dinner at the table,
Not just serving them everyday,
But also relishing food he cooks.
She shares a new equal dignity,
Not fearing any ****** or teaser,
But cared for who she is to him.
She is content with spirituality,
Not praying only the male God,
But also aware of His Mother...
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
She is looked at not as an object,
Not at all a means to please him,
But as the life producing mother.
She has faced no physical abuse,
Not any sort of emotional either,
But respected if not worshipped.
She looks happily in the mirror,
Not to find her mascara ruined,
But admires it & longs for tears.
She stands as equals with them,
Not as assistant but participant,
But equally women & men live.
She also eats dinner at the table,
Not just serving them everyday,
But also relishing food he cooks.
She shares a new equal dignity,
Not fearing any ****** or teaser,
But cared for who she is to him.
She is content with spirituality,
Not praying only the male God,
But also aware of His Mother...
My HP Poem #574
©Atul Kaushal
