Her Colorful Turban
A cobweb closed in on her
- Ugh, a sticky strangle.
Be civilized, they said.
“Here, wear this bangle.”
Teach her how to live!
It's the only way. They said,
“Make your skirts longer,
And your colors, milder.”
“Uh oh, smile, please —
Na ah, not too much.
Don’t dance in the wind.
No! Don’t prance as such!”
“Can’t you feel those eyes?
With brows a frowned —
Looking directly at you.
Do not turn around!”
What did she think of herself?
To strut around thus —
Assuming her freedom found
Walking two feet above ground.
“Let’s sit back and watch
If she runs, then snatch.
If she stops, let her go.”
No one there was a friend or foe.
They showered indifference,
When attention was needed.
And unconditional judgment,
Where support was wanted.
In defiance to the critics,
She counted her minutes
In efforts toward her freeing,
With many a dream woven
Into the fabric of her being.
She was no stranger
To carrying the burden
Of upwelling anger
Concealed beautifully
In her colorful turban.
