Pen To Pan - By Iram I.

Pen is power; I know.

The power that neither you could snatch away, Nor I could forget. I cherish it and will always do.

My throbbing heart, as they would say, wouldn’t have been Better. Because I’m not a better person.

Not a better woman to lean on the same path as The haunted patriarchy threw up.

Kitchen is for me, they say, lifting a pan is the most I could dream.

I don’t speak. When I’m not even allowed to have a mind of my own to say no,

How do you think I would speak?

Yeah, don’t expect me to give an inauguration Speech on your arrival. my words aren’t light.

They would push you down for the sole reason to save the crown. They would hammer your metal bones and rusted mind.

They would scream even louder to make myself clear.

They wouldn’t cut themselves to make you feel better.

They would slice, stab, sting and sweeten you at the same moment.

You wouldn’t notice. But that is the plan, kid.

My words are the underwater treasure that doesn’t grow old with time. They grow old with the emotions I embodied them with.

I give them a life of meaning which I only picked for you.

Yes, each sound out of my mouth and pen is as heavy as you could never imagine.

Those aren’t just letters put together, that is me with a straight face claiming this world isn’t for

someone to rule upon.

They are soldiers, the chiefs, the weapons,

the strength, they are not for you not dismiss.

My words wouldn’t shy away unlike me. They wouldn’t shut up just because you said so.

They don’t fear someone or something. They don’t see the world as me. They don’t dare to fear to

be the weird one.

Those are part of me with a unique soul.

My words, my pen, the ink – everything is a strategy; just you don’t see it

And never will.

So, take my life away or the ink,

They would still find a perfect way to blind you as if you thought you were powerful. Those letters are recited version of the power I possess and yes, I never told you so But the power I have is not a child’s play and

Twisting my words around, to keep me captured in

Your poisonous sugary world, you would be tangled as I’m not the Rapunzel

But the pan with dreams and courage. Pan to remind you my way.

Pan with hard base and heaviest to weigh, Pan to show you stars in the day

And My words;

Those aren’t for the sweet 16, those are for the strength in 16. So, thank you for telling me what a girl can’t do,

Because I already did it.

The poem belongs to the author and the author only. Please don't copy it!! It's their original piece!

Cover page by Khushi Kolte