If Mona Lisa Speaks
Look at me and decide for once,
Whether I’m a mere portrait of a pretty face,
Or of a living smothered in colours that are dense,
Look at me, for my identity is secluded without a trace.
The master painter used his thick paint brush,
Womaniser he is, shall I declare his soul in open air,
For he caressed my nudity with colours so lush,
And my dignity happened to hang by the hair.
He left me pinned to the wall so tall,
Framed! As an eye candy for the lecherous eyes,
My silence, my wails; echoed across the hall.
It is hard to separate the truth from the lies.
I craved to live a life as you shall desire to lead,
With emotions surreal, you yearn to express in your smile.
Alas my joy, nor my cries were difficult for the wise to read,
And thus the legend of Mona Lisa began to spread across miles.
I hanker to disobey the virtues of being smothered by art,
I wish to cry and speak to the stalkers who intrigue my mind.
I wish to shout and talk, convey the varied feelings of my heart,
But this canvas holds me calm, for I shall be a mystery to find.
I let go of all my emotions and want to fall on my knees and weep,
But the frames hold me good and my feet are nowhere to be seen.
I have seen the wars and witchcrafts of men who lied and seeped;
Their mortal remains giving birth to trees that were surprisingly green.
Listen to me, for once lend me your ears and hear the words gush.
I might be another art, another woman whose voice lost is in silence.
Whose identity the men smothered, lost in your chivalrous rush.
In the monochrome of struggle, you swept me aside I know whence.
Dreams crushed inside me, as I lay close to your taunting arms,
My wants died, my needs hidden; I brave a smile to please you!
A delight for your eyes, your love satiating the inner harms.
And the master declared, “A canvas from Heaven!”
So very true!
~ Srikar Middhai | Edited by Afreen Zeb
Image source: pixabay.com