By Oshin Saga Aryadan
Do you see what I see?
Flowers eternally blossoming,
fine jasmines minting
sweet, sweet air.
Maa—
her legs sweeping the dance floor
with a grace—so delusional,
bewitching laymen and lords
and flirting clouds below.
Her eyes—sparkling Kohinoors—
stilled the world
in a breathless hush.
Tiny buzzing bees,
honey-laden, hung mid-air.
What could I do,
but stare ahead,
heart shimmering—
my goddess in gold!
Meri Maa…
Yet I dared not look
at the harsh kohl
lining her eyes,
her scars,
her bygones…
Jhan jhan jhan—her feet twirled,
adorned with hyacinths,
so piously red.
Roses burning with desire
shied away.
Her arms swayed—ever so gently
into a blissful trance.
Sunflowers and men—
enraged and dazed,
swooned.
Meri Maa—
not her shadow.
Do you see what I saw?
Shattering her past, her chains,
she cupped me close
and ran—
all the way to the meadow;
she laid me gently
by the stream,
by the wildflowers,
and whispered:
“This world is yours—
not mine,
nor society’s.”