A Woman of the Valleys

Watch her

As she courageously puts away,

the safety of the familial quilt

that shelters her in the dark hours of the night,

and ushers in the silent, foggy mornings of irrelevance.

 

Watch her

as she rises, or, attempts to dethrone

into the scary, lonely, premise of life

peering over gingered tea,

looking for some inspiration in its spiced notes.

 

Watch her

wear colors, hide her chipped red toe nails with

white heels.

And cover her weak-willed shoulders

with mother’s beautiful pashmina.

 

Watch her

pepper her lips with a shade of pink

and put on makeup

on the chapped

colorless contours of a thing called face.

 

Watch her,

in the mirror-

a splash of color,

desperately trying

to defeat the empty eyes.

 

Watch her

as she writes, in the hope that

in the vestiges of her mind

a clarity will emerge

through the dark ink.

 

Watch her

living through the eight hour

mandatory clocking of work,

digesting life,

in small, mundane morsels.

 

Watch her

struggle, as she devours,

the slowly cooking listlessness

of a brown, discarded

dark chocolate, smothered with salt.

 

And when you have watched enough,

You will have known

A woman of the valleys-sluggish-tepid-squalid,

An almost-there person,

a never-enough sigh.

 

Watch her

and you will learn of the

the never-ending attempts, to seize the day,

the undying urge to propel oneself

out of this abyss – to the top of  mountains.

 

But hardly,

For she is the woman of the valley,

She is,

the one

meant to stay.

**

valley1valley2

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