(by Sadia Sheeraz and illustrated by Vaneeza Jawad)

Mother Wounds

These mother wounds mark my body

No scars on my womb, or my hips.

The signs of carrying belong to

somebody else. Somebody with age on

their side, the years to build the

strength.

I had no such warning.

A decade of life was permitted.

A patchy decade, torn apart by forces

beyond us all.

A decade was enough, they decided,

And then the burning hot torch would

be

placed into my small soft hands.

The flames would lick my face.

She will get used to it,

eventually.

Share:

Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on pinterest
Pinterest
Share on linkedin
LinkedIn

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

On Key

Related Posts

Where does a newspaper end?

Khushi comments on the addition of her role, Digital Editor, to The Beaver and how media has to change and update to keep up with the addition of social media as a news source.

A Work in Progress

Shreya shares her thoughts on becoming the executive editor for this new year of The Beaver, and what lies ahead for the new committee and their ambitions.

The Songs of the Summer

Maya shares the fifteen songs that soundtracked her summer, from sunset picnics to festival encores, in the hope that you’ll find a few new favourites of your own.

Obsession: As Timely as it is Timeless

The indie horror hit Obsession’s unlikely box office run reveals how original, low-budget filmmaking is reviving the spontaneous cinema trip, and why studios should be paying attention.

scroll to top