Moons agoshe swayed
in the breeze,
her dress crackling
in the wind of youth
attached
by
the strings
that
allowed
her to float
within the control
of the Manja ....
Today,
after
seasons of hesitating,
being yanked,
pulled,
and released,
she
floats tiredly,
blue,
amidst
clouds of doubt.
His hand
has bloodied,
cut by the
incisive abuse
of the Manja,
and she twists,
and cuts her past aloof,
floating,
free as a kite
into the future;
unknown,
but away from him,
and safe....
We in the "States" have heard of this.
ReplyDeleteLittle boys trying to catch up to the big boys and using mother's pots and pans to make a solution that will
stick the glass to the kite strings.
I am glad my son never tried this with my good pots and pans! But I would love to see the kites fly!
You have expanded my rather shallow and pert comment into a deep and sad exploration of the female condition.
ReplyDeleteYou have a true passion for your work. Kong The Barber
ReplyDelete