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 suns

for what am I but daughter of darkness?