Child Bride Poem by Heyjirol Javier

She is a CHILD BRIDE, not yet a woman

She was told to look coy, demure.
She was instructed to deploy tactics to lure.
She was ordered to charm with
grace, disarm, amaze.
She was taught to whisper sexy soft in murmurs talk.
Not yet a woman, this child bride.

Like a paradigm of beauty, an artist’s rendition.
On duty, of empty tradition, an insatiable troll
She was trained to walk slow, head bent,
Eyes low, shy, smile content.
Not yet a woman, this child bride.

Oh! How she longed to run free,
in bewilderment was she.
The tight fitting head gear was pinching,
hunger for freedom was inching,
like a beleaguered goddess,
trapped and wrapped for give-away.
Not yet a woman, this child bride.

She had smiled and smiled, till it riled.
So fake, her jaws suffer from ache
Her young bright questioning rich eyes, sighed, longing for simple explanation
why it has to be now
Not yet a woman, this child bride.

She longs for bare feet laced with dirt and mud,
She craved the almond fruits plucked with smooth stones
She misses running down the stream pathway, flowers tickling, rain trickling,
rolling on hills, till laughter spilled.
But a bellowing wind blown grown attire she got
Not yet a woman, this child bride.

She yearned to run away, hide,
from peering faces, this child bride.
From piercing look of her young playmates
From inquisitive noses, exploring looks, unethical actions
Her heart spoke, her voice choked.
Quiet words unsaid, unheard.
Not yet a woman, this child bride.

She is a just thirteen, but with a wedding ring and a mounting lord
She yearned for childhood, play, lounge
unbridled youth,
With just a shrug she became a grieved loyalist
With dreams tossed, shackled, bound on all sides
She is not yet a woman, this child bride.