Beneath the veil of healing thread, A secret stitch is sometimes spread-Not for the mother's wound or grace, But to please another's carnal chase. They call it "husband's knot" in jest, A cruel mark where she should rest. No balm it brings, no pain it mends, Yet scars and silence it extends. A violator dressed in care, A needle's touch, a hidden snare-For pleasure not her own, it's sown, Where dignity should stand alone. No oath condones this silent shame, No art of birth should bear that name. It steals from her what birth bestows-Her power, healing, and repose. - KRUPA В. М.
