Paradox Of Liberation

1. Liberation is solace embroidered along the
edges of clothes that dismantle existential
drudgery.

It’s the homeland of all beings with skin
that moulds into a bane every lone twilight.

It’s sadism that chokes our limbs embroiled
in normativity at the first peek-a-boo.

It’s a paradigm dropped into the morning
prayers by quaint baby cuckoos.

It’s t-r-u-t-h echoed out of a girl’s mouth
as if with a dreadful toothache.

It’s an exaggeration of its own innocuous
tongue.

It’s a gold-rimmed burial ground.

It’s an irony in a man’s mouth.

2. Dysphoria is the price paid for liberation.

It’s a havoc with an undercurrent of
barrenness and broil.

It’s hope that jumped out of poetry and
turned into hysteria.

It’s a rainbow-hued fascination diluted into
a monochrome reality.

It’s a game of hide-and-seek in which a man
hides in a woman and a woman hides in a man.

It’s the weeping apparition of a refugee
massacred inside their own body for trying to
sing.

It’s a body running from post to post in a
country that decides the contours of faces for
its people.

It’s the antithesis of liberation lurking in its
silhouette that does not distinguish between
the clothe and the solace embroidered along
its edges.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s