Me...

As I was born, a tear rolled down my mother’s supple cheeks…
It wasn’t a boy for whom she had prayed for so many weeks..

To my family my birth was more or less a kind of compromise..
And I wonder who said a girl child is a blessing in disguise..

I grew up with a list of do’s and don’ts meant for only for me..
A prescribed way to follow that would never set me free..

I grew young and beautiful to learn that I was in love..
Convicted of a crime, I faced questions of what and how..

The nuptial knot was tied with a person I had scarcely known..
The brutal play I had to accept with no signs of denial to be shown..

A transition of roles occurred as I entered a step into my new life..
The household items were gifted to me, the plates, the casserole, the knife..

I conceived a girl and I realized that I was the only one to blame..
And my in-laws always turned out to be airing the blazing flame..

I played my role as a mother of two, showering all my love and care..
And when they grew up, they went their ways, leaving my place to be nowhere..

A mother to my son’s wife, I played with a pure soul..
But for any domestic turbulence, I was blamed on the whole..

I died with all my desires buried with me into the eternal soil..
I wish I wasn’t ever born to live moments of strife and turmoil..