Don't be scared of my bony arms!
You look so worried about
The pale whiteness of my dry dark eyes bulging out of
The sunken sockets on
My fleshless tobacco-chewing face,
She says, laughing hard.
Coiling her thickest darkest knee-length hair
Into her a loose bun,
Stirring the sauce,
Turning over the paraantha,
on the tava,
Rolling the next ball of dough
on the chakla,
She holds my gaze with hers
Demands my
Undivided attention, enunciates
Softly -
Unambiguously -
These wiry fingers can
hold your face
Without cracking, when you feel
Fatherless,
Motherless,
Loverless,
Childless
They will feed you
Nourishing hot meals that calm your
Anxious soul
So that you may continue your fights about
My plight
Eat!
Don't feel guilty that I feed you
With my belly stuck to my spine.
I will feed your
Mother, too
If she will let me.
If she will
Remember
Me as Budhiya
In a sari, in a bindi
A dying body that lived fully
Gracefully
Not in this everyday attire
That I wear for the world
To prove the
Fidelities that are demanded of me
Acting
Living
Laboring
Without compromising
Hansa, the Soul
Processing
my Desires
Un-possessing
my Attachments
Dis-possessing
my Dreams
Re-possessing
my Spirit
On my own terms
Kicking categories
Claiming religion
Namelessly
Freely
Abundantly
Closing my eyes
Losing myself
Singing Hansa
The Soul
Again,
Yet again.
You look so worried about
The pale whiteness of my dry dark eyes bulging out of
The sunken sockets on
My fleshless tobacco-chewing face,
She says, laughing hard.
Coiling her thickest darkest knee-length hair
Into her a loose bun,
Stirring the sauce,
Turning over the paraantha,
on the tava,
Rolling the next ball of dough
on the chakla,
She holds my gaze with hers
Demands my
Undivided attention, enunciates
Softly -
Unambiguously -
These wiry fingers can
hold your face
Without cracking, when you feel
Fatherless,
Motherless,
Loverless,
Childless
They will feed you
Nourishing hot meals that calm your
Anxious soul
So that you may continue your fights about
My plight
Eat!
Don't feel guilty that I feed you
With my belly stuck to my spine.
I will feed your
Mother, too
If she will let me.
If she will
Remember
Me as Budhiya
In a sari, in a bindi
A dying body that lived fully
Gracefully
Not in this everyday attire
That I wear for the world
To prove the
Fidelities that are demanded of me
Acting
Living
Laboring
Without compromising
Hansa, the Soul
Processing
my Desires
Un-possessing
my Attachments
Dis-possessing
my Dreams
Re-possessing
my Spirit
On my own terms
Kicking categories
Claiming religion
Namelessly
Freely
Abundantly
Closing my eyes
Losing myself
Singing Hansa
The Soul
Again,
Yet again.
20 November 2016
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