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Poem: For Girls Filled With Fire

'For Girls Filled With Fire' is a poem written by 15-year-old poet and women's advocate Anya Thakur.

Artwork by Anya Thakur.

‘For Girls Filled With Fire’ is a poem written by 15-year-old poet and women’s advocate Anya Thakur. She works to empower and uplift communities as founder of GirlUp Dallas, a UN Women organization, and a MetoWe partner with ArtRising, which provides arts enrichment to underprivileged communities and creates diverse programming for South and East Asian women. Hosting education, self-defense, and language and literature classes to empower rural women in Delhi, Mumbai, and Munipur, and humanitarian efforts with Myna Mahila, which empowers women in rural India through health education, her women’s advocacy promotes UN Women’s mission to ensure a fair and equitable future, and she has traveled throughout the United States and India to speak for girl’s education and empowerment.

– – –

For Girls Filled With Fire

she is

arrow of flaming carnations,

skin glossed by light in coral hues of coppery sun and rosy dusk.

and

ripe peaches and sea salt kisses,

turmeric sprinkles on buttered ridges.

with

bones of asteroids and calcium phosphate, stardust on the apples of her cheeks and eyes of infinitesimal galaxies blooming and booming out like supernovas,

skin the color of the milky way woven together by strands of onyx diamonds,

hair in all the shades of sun – burnt umber bleeding out to copper and cornflower gold,

and with

wings sprouting from shoulder blades.

she is

Icarus who flew too close to the sun on wings of feather and wax,

in clandestine yet incandescent moments of warm hands woven through dark curls and blazing hot fingertips and soft, malleable flesh brushing up against each other.

and

the sky enraptured by the serene brutality of the storm of the sea until the shores and the sun wept from watching with tears of pure light and

it all turned to gold.

as arbitrary blackness gallops in and a field of stars cling to the midnight ceiling

under the phosphorescent crescent curve of the moon,

dangling like a pendant from a necklace clasped proudly around the balletic neck of night,

she is you,

the girl who dares to play in the dark and burn the night alive.

and if you’ve already captured this universe,

substance and fire living, thriving, and igniting

inside of you as you, then maybe the world is already yours

so claim it.

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