Everyday, everytime a woman grits her teeth and gets into her daily business of living a thinking-less world. If She thinks, then she cannot be, who she has to be. she will awaken from her dream and know who she truly is, then she realizes endless possibilities. That doesn't suit this world....
I awoke in darkness, every fibre of my body screaming. A repeat dream that has haunted me often. Locked behind closed doors, petrol fumes filled my lungs as my whole body burnt away. as I grasped my burning clothes, my skin peeled away like a glove. Petrol- heat and smoke. Air.. Help, I grasped at a semblance of some prayer. Gasping, I awake safe on my own lifetime, my partner's gentle snores assuring me all is well.
I have never shared this dream with anyone till today. It was a private nightmare, one I sought meaning for in theories of past lives and in the conclusion that it was the the activity of an over imaginative mind.
Dramatic and very newsmaking my dream may be but the real life is not that melodramatic. But it is no less a nightmare for the everyday woman. She is born into a world that she must negotiate by the art of not thinking. Thinking awakens desires not known to her kind. Violated in body, mind and every space she has she retreats into those corners of an unthinking darkness. Washing, cleaning shopping watching mindless soaps.
Every bit of her identity is seen as threatening, every joy she derives alone has to balanced with giving and temperance. Even the so- called free fun that she has is presumed to be an object of pleasure for someone else.
Some of dear friends will brush this aside. But sisters, it takes some thinking to wake up. Don't wake up now, for then you will then have my nightmare to share for all women. I think and then I cannot be at peace. I am a woman born and trapped in a man's world. No home to fly away to.
Dedicated to the everyday woman's world....
I awoke in darkness, every fibre of my body screaming. A repeat dream that has haunted me often. Locked behind closed doors, petrol fumes filled my lungs as my whole body burnt away. as I grasped my burning clothes, my skin peeled away like a glove. Petrol- heat and smoke. Air.. Help, I grasped at a semblance of some prayer. Gasping, I awake safe on my own lifetime, my partner's gentle snores assuring me all is well.
I have never shared this dream with anyone till today. It was a private nightmare, one I sought meaning for in theories of past lives and in the conclusion that it was the the activity of an over imaginative mind.
Dramatic and very newsmaking my dream may be but the real life is not that melodramatic. But it is no less a nightmare for the everyday woman. She is born into a world that she must negotiate by the art of not thinking. Thinking awakens desires not known to her kind. Violated in body, mind and every space she has she retreats into those corners of an unthinking darkness. Washing, cleaning shopping watching mindless soaps.
Every bit of her identity is seen as threatening, every joy she derives alone has to balanced with giving and temperance. Even the so- called free fun that she has is presumed to be an object of pleasure for someone else.
Some of dear friends will brush this aside. But sisters, it takes some thinking to wake up. Don't wake up now, for then you will then have my nightmare to share for all women. I think and then I cannot be at peace. I am a woman born and trapped in a man's world. No home to fly away to.
Dedicated to the everyday woman's world....
Work
Thinking out of my walls they said was easy,
the walls are your thoughts.
I found solace in scrub-pad's confused layers,
as I cleaned away thoughts along with the soiled vessels,
I spun-dry my tears after soaking them in salt.
I swept away all the taunts and teasing,
gathered them up into the empty vacuum of my mind.
I finally remote hammered my thoughts shut in
endless pouring of the soaps on tv.
Yet one tiny thought escaped
crawled up searing my throat,
squeezed its way with a silent whistle
dripped down on my cheeks.
The bell rings and I banish that traitor and
mindless, go on to receive the dhobi.
No comments:
Post a Comment