Rositta Joseph

A Curse

A curse upon
This great land
Where women
Are only worshipped
Not loved or valued.
Where gold, diamonds,
Cars, apartments
Far outvalue the bride.
Where men have dreams, careers
And women choose among
Their leftovers.
Where ladies must please the universe
And are ‘ruthless’ if they survive.
Mother, sister
Mother-in-law, me…
So many of us
Willingly kneeling to
Others’ dictates.
They first ask us
To choose
Between
Body and soul,
And then they
Call us
‘Liberated’.

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Light: Choice or Compulsion?

Malignant death
Sucks up
All that lives.
And then,
A tiny stream
Of light
Emerges
To revive
The fount of life.

Despair dances
Crushing
Each unborn dream
Within the womb.
Yet,
One fragile embryo
Of light
Continues pulsating
Hopefully.

Falsehood and deceit
Mutilate truth
Into a million
Bloodied bits.
Again and again,
A single stubborn drop
Of light's pure balm 
Soothes and heals
And puts truth
Together again.

All seems lost
Destined for doom
Everything a mirage
Nothing permanent
Except for failure
In a world ruled
By darkness.

And then
I remember
Ever since
That first light
Commanded
‘Let There Be Light’
Light’s not a Choice 
Light’s a Compulsion. 

Once again
I go
From existing
To living
I see all,
Accept all,
Embrace all -
Especially
The darkness.
For
Out of
The darkest darkness
Always arises
The light of lights

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