She died yesterday.
The priest chants mantras irrelevant to the essence of her life. She stood for freedom and path-breaking ideas. Rituals are about beating a trodden path with sticks shaped out of a murdered tree.
Those who pray for the soul to rest in peace know not that she exists beyond their reach – in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems.
Poems that carry strong messages – unheard, unread, unappreciated, but which flicker like an inexhaustible flame in the dark.
Those who encountered her spirit but feared the fire, refuse to acknowledge she was anything more than an anonymous, childless woman who left no heir.
Deep inside they know that a spiritual legacy lives longer than a child, hence they measure a woman by the children she bears and rears, assisted by a man. It facilitates denial of an independent living force.
Written for Prosery Monday at dVerse
She has the feel of a goddess hiding her identity as she walks among humans. Beautiful story, Reena.
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Thank you so much, Lisa!
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You’re very welcome.
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This touches you on many levels all at the same time.
Great piece. One of your best.
The words seem to flow from powerful emotions eliciting equally powerful response in the reader.
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Thank you so much, Shashi!
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Reblogged this on NEW BLOG HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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Your words are so powerful Reena.
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Thank you, Linda!
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You’re welcome!
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Well done, Reena. A poem of strength beyond this life!
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Thank you, Dwight!
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You are welcome!
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I am touched, Reena. Superb.
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Thank you so much!
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Reblogged this on Sharing Thoughts.
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🙏🙏
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Wow, Reena – one of the best proseries I’ve ever read. I love this piece.
~David
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Thanks a ton!
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