Blame the air flowing on distant river banks, whispering whorls to us
Punish the soft land that cushions and bubbles us forth
Trained by millennia and DNA, we still think the small round ones cute
We sing to them to inhale and expand from within their souls
Tendrils on our heads and arms dance and twist to show them how,
First in tight corkscrews and then unfurling out to modest curves
We venerate the gibbous moon and worship the oval earth
This rotundity is our adulation, our paean, so we may fit widely
Even forgiving the hothouses, greedy knife, lost seeds,
Here hold one of us: see how we curve snugly into your arm and waist
Why force this unnatural angularity on to us? For what fault
Would you peg us into a cube we don’t trust?
We only seek to be, not conquer, convert, or consume!
Our universe is unbalanced, as we squat ungracefully on market stalls
No longer feeling our browned, tinseled tendrils pulled and tied into perfect bows
Envious of the round eyes and wide mouths of those who gawk at us
When the moon visits and you have forgotten us, we dream of spheres,
Shell-shocked in the freak section with bonsai
And tiny women’s shoes with very high heels
Shefali Shah Choksi
Very good, I like this one a lot and your reference to the natural world. Done anything like this as it pertains directly to desis, just wondering?
ReplyDeleteCertainly! Of course! In my short stories, but don't know how to publish them!
ReplyDelete