By BIRAJ DIXIT :
Swept off your feet,
Or grounded
Gently nudged,
Or hounded
Leaning-in,
Or left out
In a shroud of silence,
Or lunging out to shout
Woman, tell yourself its ok
The wings, the wounds; It’s ok
Own the world
“...That was never yours”
Shun the guilt
Of not giving in to calls
Learn from your men
The art of holding back
The hunt’s always on
Be a pack.
Woman, tell youself, its ok
The clutch, the climb; It’s ok
Too possessive, full of airs
Your essense has been all about cares
The ‘What-ifs’ of successes!
Allow yourself to fail
Leave behind the elegance
Of suffocating veil
Beautiful you are
No need to raise the bar
Woman, tell youself its ok
The waistline, wasted lines: It’s ok
It’s ok: The fight, the fall
It’s ok: The bruises, the brawl
This desire to change the world
The pain of standing tall
It’s ok not to join the line
To join it, also is no crime
Inhale the air, feel at home
Choose bright colours or monochrome
Woman, tell yourself its ok
You are fine... The world? Well...! It’s ok.