An ode to the women I see

She flies with her own wings
    her life is her song
her scruples, the objections in her path
    her leisure, her bed of fantasies

her world, her perception from her eyes
    her heart, a mirror of her unsung desires
her mind, a pool of its afflictions and aspirations
    her spirit, unencumbered
her essence immortalised in time

she falls , she rises, she braves the tide
   but sometimes, yet sometimes
she frees herself and rides home on the tides

her stoic semblance bottles up the tumultuous emotions
   raging her interiors, eroding her stability
its human, its only human to feel this way
   she gives in
sometimes frugally, sometimes unsparingly
   but she knows well, when time comes
to take her possessions back

there is a little satchel she carries
   where she keeps her little bundles of joy
her own space, her own prerogative before time
   she keeps it hidden
hidden in those moments of self-torn desire
   hidden between moments
of loosing and finding yourself
   between rationality and irrationality
between sighing and breathing
   between the dawn and the early morn
in all those seconds spent in vulnerable thought

and before the twilight ends
   before it takes back the little tufts like clouds soaked with serene lusciousness
before dawn breaks into her sub conscious
   she wraps her little joys, and puts them away, shielded
under her cotton sheets of wistful chimeras
   she walks through her day customarily
a smile here, an empathetic shrug there
   but in her heart
she longs to surround herself in
   her private possessions- her memories, her desires, her moments, her soul
to relive those treasured silent memories of unrequited dreams

I'm amazed by the soul in front of me
   always hiding behind the shadows of a half-revealed self
hoping someday someone would see
   see through the unseen, see through the disguised impersonation of herself
I'm amazed how unsparingly people disregard her delicate soul
   but she still does
she still walks on the unknown roads
   trying to find her own way
in the milieu of dogmatic voices
   she believes in singing her own song
because she flies, she flies with her own wings ....