Poems by Prajakta Kale

At the cremation

a poem by

Prajakta Kale

Those lush blue eyes rich in dreams
Shadow the vanity of its youthful grace
Alas, grief not love
Seems to be smitten by her
Suddenly and unknowingly it pounces
Upon its prey, as it always does.

It thrusts my lifeless form
Upon her well planned life
Shattering and scattering its pieces
All over, her ghastly face
And steady gaze seek answers
Not a place for a painful tear.

A steely glint creeps up to her eyes
For now she is a mother
She keeps up a stoic silence
Throughout her tremendous sorrow
For the healing of the soul of her child
The herculean duty on her tired shoulder.

I see her jaws clench and a muscle twitch
Beads of perspiration on her brow
Making her mind up, she is
Determined to face the hardships coming
Building imperishable walls around her
Forbids her vulnerable self from taking over.

Alas these developments are intercepted
I know not how
Barbaric traditions rip off my love’s courage
Imploring her to slash her strengths
Tying her up to their morals and values
They break her brave choices.

One last time dress up like a bride
They say to her
One last time do what you can never ever
Shearing her down to living ashes
They punish her for no sins of her
Smudging her life with distress and despair.

Tricking her into believing this is the end
They comfort her and console her
Push her into dark wiry tunnels
And the game of fate this is, they say
Masked creatures, these relatives and relations are
Inflict wounds and gladly bandages they make.

The neonate hero in her heart no longer beats
Asphyxiation gets to it
Once again at the cremation of a man
The guardians of traditions and customs
Manage to rob the last left morsel
And wipe out the essence of the woman, a wife.

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