A ceaseless war is waged on our bodies 
to defend. 
To conquer. 
The Birangona weeps. 
For life leveraged, and birth forsaken. 
We are all born, sharee pooled at our feet. 
When the Birangona ran from your war 
to defend. 
To conquer. 
We wept. 
Her body, your battlefield. 
Charge the filth that plagues you! 
So glory may spring from death. 
Whose death?
What matters when there's a Motherland to defend? 
Our bodies, a shrine. 
A symbol: your chastity, frozen in time. 
Cast out your shame; our bodies, defiled. 
For victory! 
Whose victory? 

Waziha Aziz is a poet based in Chattogram and a student of Asian University for Women.