Indus.

Since colonialism corrupted her innocence,
dyeing Mother India's land with the blood of innocents.
Once, harmony existed between their inhabitants,
until extremism reared its ugliness and sought to create division.
From the beginning of time, India was one,
home to many different tribes that coexisted
peacefully under the Hindustani sun.
From the shores of the Indian ocean,
to the Himalayas and Bangladesh in the east,
there was no bond quite like theirs
until pride and ego made it cease.
I still consider myself to be Indian
despite having Pakistani roots,
one day, hoping to to adventure throughout India,
whilst feasting on her fruits.
Long live Mother India, the birthplace of all religion,
though I remain in mourning
for the casualties lost to predatory partition.

La Isla Bonita

She has hips like Venus,
that ebb and flow,
with the rhythm of the sea;
her waves wash over me.

I seek tranquility in her ocean.
Swimming in her to
define my freedom.
A body of water like no ofher.
She smells of saline
and hard labour.

Every breath's an effort,
just like the very air I breathe.
Sweet as honey,
she is thick as milk.

Despite being blamed
for Eve's original sin,
she still weaves through
the traffic with expert skill.

Blessed with the ability
to turn water into wine,
and chromosomes into people,
she embraces every obstacle
with passion and wonder.

As soft as velvet,
and as smooth as jade,
she is the reason why
brutish men are
transformed into knaves.

Le donne, mujeres, aurat—
in any language she is beautiful.
And for her very existence,
I am eternally grateful.

She.

She walks with her head held higher
than the skyscrapers that kiss the sky.
Finally able to live her truth,
her hazel eyes have no more glitter tears to cry.

Sometimes strangers can be crude,
but often they just seem surprised.
Her name and identity give her strength,
and fill her with such pride.