I lay dead on the lap of my mind
Loaded with the pricking memories.
Nothing can ever wake me up
From this everlasting slumber.

Yes,I’m dead; dead like an ice-cube.
None mournes a woman’s death
Because she dies every day
Or she is killed every day.

Marriage is death for a woman:
Sanctioned and blessed by the world
She buries her joyous pastlife
To be born in another world.

So I’ve died and reincarnated
Only to die again like this.
And I lay dead on the lap of my mind
Loaded with the pricking memories.

This poem was written/submitted by Resmi.