[Dark Saint Alaick]

If your face is adorned with
The dead mask of curry
Then I would ask
Do you see dew floating in your eyes?
If you have to
Massage the feet of well fed travelers,
Who return late at night,
Then I would ask,
How does the spring bloom on your hands?

In the male dominant society, or patriarchy, that we have in the oriental countries, it is the man who earns the bread

But for the bread winner son,
There is a long line of maids,
To serve in his prison
Chooses whoever he wants,
And so for rest of your lives,
O girls waiting for bus to college,
Just like those smoke puffing buses,
Be ready for life of shoves and grind.

In the following passage, she has given certain marks of identification of a woman.

I am the same one that you buried in a wall,
And you became worry-less like morning wind,
Knowing not,
Stones can not quiet a voice
I am the same one that you buried
Under the weight of customs and traditions
The one you tried to hide
Knowing not
Light cannot be frightened by abyss of darkness,
I am the same one from whose lap
You snatched the flowers
And replaced it with thorns and fire
Knowing not
You can’t chain the fragrance of flowers.

O my mother!
Several years ago
You gave me dreams
You laughed and told me
Now your name would be honored,
Now your dreams would turn into roses
World would become a mind where
Women would not be enslaved
To eat leftovers
To be humiliated
In any home or street

Before I am born – reassure me
Religion would not be trapped in my ears
My mother wouldn’t suffer
For giving birth to a daughter
Walls of humanity would be raised
To protect me
And not to burry me

O Kishwar Naheed,
Desire to see you silent
Is rising from the graves
But you speak!
For here it is forbidden to hear

They hate woman,
So they hate their mother and daughter.
For any other calamity in this word,
They don’t speak,
But if a woman rises with a flag in hand
Right away they say
Right away expel her from Islam,
And from all the pleasures of life.