The Unseen Woman Poem by Jamuna Z

Beneath the veil of quiet, she remains,
Beneath the gaze of gold, she stands unseen,
Her worth measured not in strength or mind,
But by the grace of beauty, bright and keen,
While she, in shadows, battles to be kind.

The world, a stage where faces cast their light,
She plays her part, yet the applause is thin.
Her hands, though strong, are lost within the night,
Where beauty's bloom is prized, what not she owns.

To rise, she must, though her path is steep and long,
Where others float on winds of soft caress.
Her effort is a quiet, laborious song,
Yet still they doubt her worth, and love her less.
A woman not adorned in dazzling grace.
Her love, though deep, is lost in distant strains,
As fleeting hearts forget her gentle face.

She watches lovers drift like autumn leaves,
While promises are stolen, love betrayed.
Her hands, though warm, are empty as she grieves,
For in her heart, the ghosts of dreams decayed.

No child to call her own, no tender eyes,
Yet still she nurtures worlds no one can see.
Her marriage, cracked, beneath a thousand lies,
Her worth dismissed—her beauty not set free.

Untold, her silent strength will ever glow,
A life unseen, but fierce enough to grow.