I am Born of a Woman

I am born of a woman, 

the salt of the nation.

Bruised and conflicted under the sun, 

that gave way to life and meaning,

wrapped around words twisted and hammered violently,

painted immortal heart with a canvass of confusion,

deliberate dillusions of misconceived minds in deep despair,

conceived in wedlock, 

perceived to be a bastard child.

Here stands a child woven with cloaks of name tags, 

shadows that need not the sun to appear but even in that gloomy darkness they glow.

Here stands a child who once bled in hallows and dungeons, 

places unforeseen in valleys of unspoken dreams and visions, 

unspoken questions of what was, is and will be...

I am born of a woman, 

oceans of tears have crafted routes of an identity kept under rocks, 

like ink stains they remain prominent scaring the most fragile part of all.

I am born of a woman, 

through it all I gave way to the past that was painted across fading clouds of superficial thoughts, 

I leaned on a shoulder harder than a rock softer than any cloud in the sky,

put my faith in something more solid than any gem existing,

Kneeled at the feet of a healer who chooses, not the act that was but, the purity of the heart.

I am born of a woman, 

salt of the nation, 

who gave birth to a new tomorrow.