Beneath her bangles,
a quiet tempest sleeps.

Do not mistake
the music of glass
for the measure of her strength.

These hands have carried
oceans without spilling a wave,
buried grief beneath smiles,
and taught broken tomorrows
how to bloom again.

She has mastered
the language of silence—
not because she is weak,
but because some battles
are won without a single word.

Yet should the hour demand it,
she needs only a heartbeat
to redraw the shoreline.

And if that shore
has forgotten her worth,
she will erase even its footprints,
leaving no trace
that it ever claimed her.

For the hands that wear bangles
do not ask the world for permission
to be powerful.

They simply are.

If you wish to witness
strength in its purest form,
look not for swords or crowns—

look beneath her bangles.

✍️ Sheeja Rajesh