"leftover lipstick
on your finger
you softly press it
on to the cream
of your brown
cheeks.
In the light of
a humid
afternoon,
the outline of your
body beneath
the sheer of a
white cotton kurta
reminds you of
sand valleys
of Rub- al Khali,
glistening sweat beads
like oil wells of the desert
every country
wants to own.
Soft untidy curls of
your long dark hair,
strands sticking to
the nape of your neck,
sweaty and hot.
In the mirror
you see your mother,
sometimes
your grandmother,
but never yourself.
Kohled eyes
and warm skin,
you tie your beauty
to your ancestors
every time.
oh how our women
even in the luxury of
their bedrooms
their own mirrors
wears modesty
like a veil
oh how our women
look in the mirror
see a beautiful creature
glowing and celestial
and never want to believe
it’s her own self."

- Mirror Stories of Every Woman by Thamanna Razak

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

thamanna... you are such a powerful poetess I hope you know that love.

Thamanna Razak said...

I'm learning , thank you :)

Anonymous said...

Thamanaaaa!!!!!! I miss u!