Don’t be my Juliet,
Nor my Leila,
Or a Rapunzel trapped
Far away atop
A phallic tower
Anxious to be rescued.
Don’t lie half dead
In a maze of roses,
Or under a glass coffin.
Don’t bother showing up
In a pretentious ball,
Wearing uncomfortable glass slippers,
Only to be valued mercilessly
By some guy with a foot fetish.
Don’t sacrifice your voice,
Or other wonderful gifts
To claim my affection.
Be your true self,
My shield maiden,
With hair untamed,
Unbound by the wind of change,
Roaring and screaming,
As loud as thunder,
Piercing eyes gazing at the horizon…
Don’t be a Sati,
As my Shiva needs her Parvati.
Don’t be my Juliet
Nor my Leila…
Nor my Leila,
Or a Rapunzel trapped
Far away atop
A phallic tower
Anxious to be rescued.
Don’t lie half dead
In a maze of roses,
Or under a glass coffin.
Don’t bother showing up
In a pretentious ball,
Wearing uncomfortable glass slippers,
Only to be valued mercilessly
By some guy with a foot fetish.
Don’t sacrifice your voice,
Or other wonderful gifts
To claim my affection.
Be your true self,
My shield maiden,
With hair untamed,
Unbound by the wind of change,
Roaring and screaming,
As loud as thunder,
Piercing eyes gazing at the horizon…
Don’t be a Sati,
As my Shiva needs her Parvati.
Don’t be my Juliet
Nor my Leila…
Image credit: Feature image generated with DALL·E using a prompt based on this poem and its themes.
If this piece resonates with you and you’re a visual artist, I’d love to feature your own soul-crafted work in place of the AI image.
