Not That One
–Meena Kandasamy
Find me another word
that is not so ready. I want
a word that waits and weeps
and hesitates, that knows
of other words I kill, and
grows afraid to take its place.

Find me a word that has heard
of a woman afraid of losing a man
she does not have, find me a word
that flinches at the thought of being
trapped, a word that shows me
stealing time, not men.

Find me a word that is not so safe.
A word for a woman in a forest
to wake up with, a woman who
knows heat and long silences
and sleepless nights, a woman
who works with only words.

Not love, dear poet.
Find me another word.

Sangharsh Karna Hai
–Meena Kandasamy
here, the hurried truth:

day after day after day
of battling death and
keeping him at bay
you became the star
taking struggle in her stride
and we became the body
breaking free, we became
the scream cutting loose
from the curse of silence,
we became the protest
that poured like blood
from a wounded night
and learning from you,
we became the flesh
that became the fight.