'Rusted Shackles' by Samantha Christopher
The conundrum is this, What defines a woman?
Her body or her mind? Or both?
If the oversimplified shoe fits, can she not just be?
Without being put into a casket so stifling.
She paints her face with rouge on her cheeks.
Her eyes blink with kohl on her lashes and across her shoulders a flowing sari draped.
A quaint picture do you see? One fed by years of misogyny.
But out her throat comes the voice of a man.
There is a soul that transcends all,
A place to which we will return, ultimately.
To that structure which holds true reality.
There is no corporeal ruse there.
Just an awakened self, beyond construct,
And beyond suppression.