The ridge of your brow stopped and pulled
White linen frames you, keeps you, shrouds you
Pulsing gaze grows heavy with wisdom and
Weight of the great things you must know
Great things I may know with the blossom of time
Familiar and gentle sister's resemblance
Throaty and thrumming evening prayers
Thankfulness huddled on two eager tongues
Chant or rote, our father of satnam
Woman: burdened are the folds of your heart
Soft and salty pitter-patter, blushing nose
Fear envelops you, surrounds you, binds you
Dripping gaze pleads for rescue and respite
Strong was the shoulder who bore your cross
Its the ache of him I bear, as you bore me
Boundless expansion of desert and grassland
Separate and similar are your precious hurts
Staunchly forward going through absentia
The pains of a womans heart I have yet to know
this is truly a lovely and touching poem. Thank you very much for honoring us this way.
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