Can't Get Her Out of My Head

 

A crumpled-mangled scarf lies on the ground,

it’s been rendered colourless by the sun,

it once had the tiny thumbprints of a dream

but now it’s as bleached as a skeletal scream,

she’d let the edge slip an inch – she was young,

she may’ve forgotten that even a gleam,

even a minute inch can bring dreams down.

 

Someone creates a monument to her hair

and to those who dream and so let their scarves slip.

The blades of grass cannot be outnumbered,

each ends in a point, each is unencumbered

by laws of mortal men and leadership.

Let those whose scarves slip be always remembered

in each word and silence, across city squares.

I'm still with her, can't get over what's happened and don't think I should or even want to. I'm in awe of  that memorial sculpture but we'd all be better off if there were no motivation to create it in the first place. The image is a screengrab from Dezeen which I can't seem to credit w/o linking back to my 'edit post' page. Weirdness unlimited, part of the same pattern. 

Personally I've had a bizarre week, which was the main festival  (Navaratri/Durgapuja) for my community - started off with a super spooky electrical fault like nothing I've experienced in my life. The power had to be shut off, piles of frozen stuff thrown away and we had to ultimately move to the guest house till the conduits were plucked out and re-laid. Back now and all running as normal. 

But my challenges pale into insignificance compared to what women elsewhere face daily. Thankful for all that I was/am given, for every challenge and its final outcome. 

Shubho Bijoya! to you if you're celebrating, and happy week if you're not. May there be much beauty for your eyes, sweets for your tongue and freedom and peace wherever in the world you are.