Nirbhaya

It casts a pitch dark shadow on the easel,
The broad canvas with its banality of white.
And brushed thoughts coloured of teasel,
Proceed to violate what's considered right.
A face emerges; product of this violation.
But devoid of signs of divinity,
Shapely bosoms take place of the eyes,
Then her curves, navel and femininity.
Year after year, more than half a century,
Men stood in front of this canvas,
Unable to discover their mind's enemy,
Lacking faculties to understand thus.
And year on year, seems like eternity,
This painting continues to paint reality.

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This poetry is based on Rene Magritte's Rape ( http://www.renemagritte.org/rape.jsp ).