What lie do you want me to web?
To band-aid your falling shrine?
I have heard that people are rather telling you the truth;
They don’t worship you anymore.
They never even did.
The bells are howling instead of ringing,
Your dreams are now full of their shrieks,
After all, we reap what we sow, right?
You now hear, what you said and still speak.
For someone with no sense of humour,
You have accidentally made people understand this art.
A lot of us have been forced disciples of your discipline.
“Silly, sick women”.
Sharp, smart women.
People, people you’ve scarred have finally learnt to laugh,
They mostly laugh at you.
Tracing your engraved scars,
I have also mastered this art,
Passing big things, mountains, rivers, cities,
I do laugh.
They are nothing compared to your ego after all
And, I pass
Big things, like mountains, rivers and cities.
Breaking your shrines.
The poem revolves around the people who try to bring us down. They can be anyone ranging from sexists, genderphobics, bodyshamers, bullies, etc. Through this poem the author has tried to point out how such people not only place them as Gods, but temples. A product of high ego and low empathy, these shrines are broken one day, finally. This process of breaking is said to be dependent on us. The day we set ourselves free, we crumble these shrines.