The Bride

img_0174
Detail from portrait of Radha, painting from 1760C.E., Kishangarh, Rajasthan

Wrapped in five yards of gold and silk

The young bride steps into the ilk

Of others of her kind.

What does she have on her mind?

Does she dream of the man who will help her fly

To the distant realms of the unbidden sky?

Or, does she stare with fear

At the stranger so near,

Who will share her bed,

To whom she is wed?

Does she cringe from his touch?

Or, does she want to say I love you so much….

Wrapped in five yards of gold and silk,

A doll who has barely started to think,

Was she asked to marry

Or allowed to choose and tarry?

Was she sold

For the weight of gold?

Was the boy bought with money

Into the knots of matrimony?

Did she have the courage to say,

“This is the only man for me any way!”

Or, did she cry and cringe and give in

To an unwanted fate, which to oppose would be a sin?

Or,

Is she stepping in to the role

Thinking only of the silk and gold?

Another woman trapped by five yards of gold and silk….

Advertisements

Evening

image

 

Dusk

Day painted the sky
With white and grey.
Sprays of sunshine turned the white popcorn clouds gold.
Swiftly, he picked up a spatula and splashed bold
Strokes of grey, blue and white.
Then, he picked up a light
And torched the skies.
He watched the blue and grey dyes
Turn to shades
Of glowing flames
Till the embers did subside
And in came his dark and sinuous bride,
Called, Night, wearing a diamanté gown
And a moon tiara on her crown.