Poetry :Shackled to get burned alive.

I wrote this poem in 2014, just saw it today while rummaging through my old journal. It is on the subject of genital mutilation of girls practiced in some countries. I was inspired to write this when I came to know about Hazviperi Betty Makoni. She is a Zimbabwean women’s rights activist who in 1999 founded the Girl Child Network, a charity which supports Zimbabwe’s young sex abuse victims. The organization has rescued more than 35,000 girls and provided mentoring to at least 60,000 girls around Zimbabwe.
The poem could be related in so many ways to how women are looked in a society and what is most of the time expected out of them by the narrow minded society. Where at one point women have achieved a sound place in todays world, still there are some who are not able to fight for them. This poem is dedicated to those unfortunate souls.

Shackled to get burned alive.

Birth as if in a cage, walls of tyranny surrounds,

Living is tougher than dying, soon did she found.

Born in a smothered childhood, fighting her fate,

It is the anguish that keeps growing,

As cruelty never abates.

Well-wishers asking her, to be under the veil,

What they care of the hurt and agony,

Those hollow eyes unveil,

Let alone the body, even soul seems to bleed,

To drown the tyranny, so shameless in its deeds.

She is an object of pleasure, is how she is recalled,

With no measure of the inflicting pain that falls.

Beaten, raped, insulted, though angst soul survives,

Even the sun in its sound warmth,

Is capable of burning her alive.

Sadism in the name of religion is what is hers,

Bruised body, as they fear her becoming pervert.

Childhood as a nightmare comes to her, if she survives,

What an irony, as some die, when this purity arrives.

Bounded by her fate, she turns into disguise,

No hope to lift her,

Shackled to get burned alive.