'Thorns and Scars'.

By Mrs. Mithi Das

I am a woman

Born where the city shines bright,

Where dreams wear diamonds,

And nights never sleep.

But I was raised

In a humble, middle-class home 

Where love was loud,

And money was small.

Once, my home echoed with laughter,

Till quarrels tore it apart.

Father and uncles 

Love lost to pride,

And family turned strangers overnight.

Then came the silence…

The bottles… the pain…

My father drowning in his own rain.

I was the eldest 

So I learned to be strong,

While childhood quietly slipped away.

Dreams folded,

Tears hidden,

So my sister’s plate stayed full each day.

Coins were few,

But hope, I fed.

Working, praying,

While my soul bled.

Then  love knocked softly,

A trembling heart, a fragile start.

Papa couldn’t stand beside me,

Yet his blessing played its part.

I built a life,

Balancing two homes 

Giving, forgiving,

Smiling through storms.

But the world  oh, it spoke.

They said I stayed for need, not love.

They never saw the scars I hide,

They never saw the heart above.

And yes 

I cry for the smallest things,

For hurt, for joy, for broken wings.

They call me weak 

But tears aren’t defeat.

They are proof I feel,

Proof I still believe.

Blessed am I 

With a son so pure,

Who reads my silence,

Who feels my cure.

My husband stands beside me 

His care is calm,

His love sincere.

Yet somewhere deep, a whisper stays 

The man I need,I've yet to receive.

My sister drifted,

Her love grew cold.

My sister's children 

The ones I raised 

I gave them my years, my heart, my gold.

Yet they turned away,

With words untold,

Their minds washed,

Their love controlled.

And my daughter-in-law…

Still to know me.

I try my best to keep her safe 

She sees my face and wonders... 

Still I will try… again and again.

Now Mummy rests beneath my care,

Her trembling soul  my silent prayer.

Safe and sound under my shaded wings.

I walk alone,

But not in vain.

I wear my dignity like a crown,

And rise from every pain.

Why am I judged?

I’ll never know.

Perhaps truth shines

Too bright for some to glow.

But here I stand 

Heart in hand,

A woman reborn 

Who takes her stand.

Because I am woman 

Not broken, but becoming 

Everything I was meant to be.

By Mrs. Mithi Das