The Bride

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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….

Our world

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Scream

This is the world of our dreams.
I see rainbows dotting the streams,
Vibrant colors reflected from the sun’s rays,
Paint the world in myriad ways
Creating an aurora of of brilliance
In which life teems in millions.
Colors and tunes harmonize
Breeding a plethora of styles.
Zillions of stars smile and among themselves converse…
‘How abundant, how wonderful is this creation, this universe!’

This is the world of our nightmares.
People running down the stairs,
Rushing, pushing, shoving.
Gore and blood dripping.
Bombs dropped, homes torn,
Children standing forlorn.
Adults seething with rage
Drawing lines of hate,
Borders, color and creed,
Differences that anger breed.
Life is overtaken by greed.

Then will come the great flood
That will wash away the bad blood.
And again, in my land of dreams,
I will see the rainbow dotting the streams…