7744

ideas & ideologies (i&i) international e-journal.

an interdisciplinary e-journal of humanities & social sciences

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Space

Please...don't tell me

  What not to read

Don't even tell me

  What to read,

I have crossed the realm

 Of fear, I don't belong.

When you see a book

 Languishing on my lap

Sometimes so intimate

 To irritate and wishfully

Long for that space

I may ignore the look

On your face

Maybe one day when you

Understand my need to read,

To tread dangerous paths

And leave me be

Then I might put my book

Aside...to notice you

my voice: SLITHERWalls cannot...

my voice:             

              SLITHER


Walls cannot...:                            SLITHER Walls cannot smother nor purify                           The hiss of the serpent... ...

            

              SLITHER

Walls cannot smother nor purify                

          The hiss of the serpent...

              It could not in Eden , in nature

                        It cannot now

              Woman was banished then...with man

          The exile of woman has continued...

        man freed himself

 Custom has imprisoned woman still

 Fear imprisons

            Fear of her body

                   But today there is something

                      More fearsome....her mind

                  Her hushed whispers, in corners

               In spaces called Home,

      In gestures unfamiliar and strange

 The body changes to instill fear

 This body which is serpentine today is potent

           You need to train yourself to read

                 Her gestures...her tears are not

                    Signs of weakness anymore

                Her lethargic body, a taut string

          Ready to strike at the slightest

          Show of sympathy

 Her words are new, punctuations

          Irregular, sentences creep to form

               Images, recreate scenes on

                 Familiar spaces...the wall, the

              Flattened roti dough, the

          Bathroom walls, the soil

         In the garden, scrapping

 For herself to see that she exists.

You cannot read, your language

            Is not nurtured in feelings,

                 Learnt in a classroom with walls

                        You can only create walls.

               You, who broke free from

            The placenta...

       Cannot return home, how

 Can home mean anything to you?

 You  imprison her at home, that space

                      From which you freed yourself,

                                      Afraid of what it holds...you