Song of Lilith
[This one was originally written in 2005, when I was a 21 year old measly undergrad student finding herself in Pune. Since I decided on a whim now, to park this blog at the address of the title of this poem, written far away and long ago, it almost feels like a poetic injustice to not place the piece here for my memory's consumption. P.S. My fair share of obsession with the myth and lore of Lilith in my 20s, also meant that when I decided to get a tattoo, I had to use John Collier's painting of Lilith as a reference] If I have to die, let me die like a crow electrocuted on the tree in the storm that raged in me. Let my life last as long, as in me lasts the scent of a woman. My living and dying and breathing and sighing were not, dear Father meant to be like Eve, nor any other daughters I bore, fathered by your sons and demons. Father, let Newton be, and let light of my last day strangle, mob and rape my vision in thousand splendid s