Bricks

He created a structure

with love,

with care,

with a heart

and with a lot of bricks.

Beautiful, it turned out to be;

So beautiful

that He was in awe

of His own creation.

The structure was a concoction

of affection,

of grace,

of strength,

and of rage.

One day,

a few people chanced upon it;

They ogled,

they grinned,

they craved,

and the drooled.

But they knew well enough

that they couldn’t have it.

So, they tore it apart

brick by brick;

They had their share of fun

and they left it to bleed.

More people chanced upon it,

but they acted like mere spectators

of some tragic play.

They found the structure

dilapidated,

bleeding,

devoid of beauty,

and they decided that

it was devoid of honour

and devoid of grace.

The structure died

a slow, painful death;

After all, it was at fault

because He had created it that way.

After its death,

the heart that it had

beat no more,

the love that it had

was no more;

The only remnants

were the bricks.

More people chanced upon it

and they wept at the tragedy;

they laid flowers near it,

and they lighted candles;

And they decided

that the structure would be worshipped

just because it had such a tragic death.

They found the men

who had caused it harm;

they punished them

without meaning any harm.

They found a name

for the structure

which was now represented

only by the bricks.

They called it a Woman

and they worshipped her after her rape;

they hurt her first

and then they hid her identity

after her death.

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