she who was born of fire
she whose beauty enticed even the sun
i garland thee
she whose blood spilled on royal floors of marble
she whose woe scorched the Kurus
i weep with thee
she who was touched yet remained stainless
she whose dishevelled hair holds the griefs of woman
i pray with thee
Draupadī,
she who cried the tears of the women who walked this earth
i am thee.
*poem published in Śabda Magazine, vol. II.
amaryllis 