I Am the Rose and the Sanctum

 

This poem was shared to me by an anonymous person who cherishes womanhood and considers that the male counterpart of the sacrifices of woman should exist to understand atleast some of the pain and suffering of womanhood...And despises the destruction of the woman sanctum and believes in its preservation... 

Moreover it is an ode to the womanhood from a bleeding, suffering and painstruck manhood who wants to uplift the downtrodden oneselves of each woman with different experiences....

I post it to show that sufferings of women are there in hearts of men also and they try to double burden themselves with their own pain. They are the equalisers, the catalysts and precipitators of womanhood....

An example of how few words and sentences give vast and expansive understanding of a normal woman.

I am the Rose and the Sanctum

I am a rose, a sanctum, sacred and rare,

Battered by boots, torn by the coldest glare.

My tears run crimson, my death is hushed in bed,

Never embraced. But belittled, betrayed, and bled.

Craved in silence through touch or cruel intent,

By fingers or force, my dignity is spent.

I lie helpless as a wound, and a shameful hush,

Seen not as soul, but currency, and a hush.

Through sex or sin, I’m never quite whole,

Used and discarded, stripped of control.

I am an anatomy unloved, a mystery feared,

And a vessel of life that's never revered.

I am your vagina — unseen and unnamed,

I am your vagina — shamed, blamed, and maimed.