Thursday, October 4, 2012


Prim, iconoclast, fluid, crystalline
She traverses tradition's ream
In an endeavor to find her voice
She unravels convention's seam.

The frayed desiccation of contemporaneity
Stipples her effort with futility
Yet the archetypal telos of her being
Suffuses anachronism with utility.

In that timeless, clogged realm
Where identity meets fate
She, negation of her own self
Inhabits a dislocated state.

Out of this displacement
She seeks to pierce vitreous custom
By finding that which defines her inadequate
she tries to her new reality accustom

Today she proliferates, with ubiquity
The labyrinth of a once male portal
Imbuing the ambiguity of obliquity
Of her profession by rendering it immortal.

She penetrates the nooks of inwardness
To extricate moments of being
And out of her putative waywardness
Would apotheosis be seeing.

No longer does she propitiate
Or obsequy  to the male
She, now an old hand, no initiate
Is unafraid to fail.

Yet times when she is condescended
To, she responds in a way that befits
However, having her new space ascended
Her fate, by her own hands is writ.

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