Rising storms of the quiet sky,Eyes full of light, and throats full of cry.Their fists are filled with fury, and hearts with flame,They’re tired of silence, and tired of shame. They carry the weight of centuries past,and break the chains that were meant to last.In their anger, there’s a tender grace—a fight for every stolen place. For rage is love in another disguise, a promise kept, a truth that flies.Women of rage, unbowed, unbent—The world will change wherever they went....
Sign in with Google to continue reading
💬 Meet Our Members
Julia Orozco
Poet who love nature and writing poetry.
Tamizh Ponni VP
Tamizh Ponni VP is an ambivert who loves to express her skills…
Dr. B.H.S Thimmappa
B.H.S. Thimmappa is a seasoned chemistry professional with extensive experience in developing…
Abhinaba Maitra
Abhinaba Maitra is a Kolkata-based writer with a background in software engineering.…
Sindhu Gopalkrishnan
I love writing as I get to create something beautiful and touch…
Khushi Barman
I'm a 22-year-old Indian psychology student. I have a strong interest in…
Support independent journalism. Your membership keeps us going.
Rising storms of the quiet sky,
Eyes full of light, and throats full of cry.
Their fists are filled with fury, and hearts with flame,
They’re tired of silence, and tired of shame.
They carry the weight of centuries past,
and break the chains that were meant to last.
In their anger, there’s a tender grace—
a fight for every stolen place.
For rage is love in another disguise,
a promise kept, a truth that flies.
Women of rage, unbowed, unbent—
The world will change wherever they went.
