She had a mother, but her mother died
Died in a day of horrors
She has been laughing, she has been carousing
Drinking late, sitting late, with her bosom cronies
She loved a love once, fairest among women.

She knows the torment
Torment of perfidy, criticism and shame
She has felt the darkness
Like her darkness of failures.

She lives inside the sepulchre
Like her mother’s sepulchre with no hope
She stays there numb
Like her mother, passionless of grief.

She has felt it all
And she feels her mother.
So she has pushed open her tomb.
She pushes aside her hopelessness.

As she stepped out into the down of life
She makes her step into her poise.

© Monalisa Parida

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