A wonder. A womb.
I have a feeling that my eyes are too many faces looking down at the dusty pavement. But the skies were never made out of ribs, the seas never mastered the tides of my blood and the moon could never command the gravity of my heart.
This may look like a weak surrender upon a deaf glance but look again. It’s a wonder, not of virginity re-shaping itself or the veil of pregnancy blooming through nine seasons.
It is nine births, and more – all emerging from the point of no return. My head is all the colours of your rainbow touch. My skin is all the senses of your secret desire. My existence is all the questions you’re too afraid ask, let alone answer.
Sex. A fluttering of –
Sometimes, I see myself as the God. Sometimes, I see myself as the Creation. In both versions, I remain a sinner seeking heaven – an irony dodging misery only to write poems on it.
How do you see me?
Why do you see me?
You say that the sun is out tonight, I never knew untimely mornings, not face-to-face at least. I had heard of a happening that corrupts itself overtime. A sickness that spreads like creepers, everywhere. A tangible dignity swinging from the chandelier.
A woman and her birth – the untimely sunrise and the timely corruption.
Everything. Inebriated buds of truth. Nothing you’ve read before and everything you’ve read before; you die everyday just to see. How? Why?
Birth – the memory burns. When will it rain?
-Nameera Anjum Khan.
Who is a woman? What is your understanding of a woman? Womanhood is one of my absolute favourite topics to write about and when I stumbled upon this work of art, it invoked so many things inside of me. My mind and my heart was filled with all sorts of questions and answers. I hope you enjoy persuing this reflective piece, thanks for reading!
Kudos to the artist for this wondrous artwork that can captivate anyone’s attention effortlessly and not just that, but it seems to knock upon your conscience in multiple ways. Click on the caption underneath the painting to visit an enthralling gallery!