They tried to bury our voices,
Under laws written without our names.
They called us weak,
Yet feared the strength in our silence.

They burned us as witches in Salem,
Drowned us in rivers to test our innocence.
They fed us to funeral pyres in the name of honour,
And called it tradition.

They stitched our lips in Victorian rooms,
Bound our feet in imperial courts,
Locked us behind veils of obedience,
And sold our childhood for dowry and shame.

They said, " Do not speak ".
But the suffragettes broke prison walls.
They said, " Know your place".
But we marched in Satyagraha and the salt fields.

From factories of war to fields of protest,
From Rosa's bus seat to Malala's classroom,
Our courage wrote what history erased.

We carried nations in our wombs,
Yet we were told we were less than men.
The same hand that cradles life,
Were forced to beg for respect.

Still, we marched.
Still, we fought.
Still, we rose from every ash they made of us.

We are not the fire they tried to end,
We are the wildfire they feared from the beginning.
We are women,
And we are still rising.

.    .    .