four days before her birthday
she drags wood
to the fire-pit,
arranges it over
those old love-letters
she waits until heat
strokes her arms
before she offers this last thing
for burning:
the wedding dress
carefully folded
& dropped
with ritual finality–
a suttee performance piece
but no one’s dead yet.
no witnesses
& the only thing turning to ash
is love gone dry & twisted
as that branch kindling
instead of a bride
burned alive
to accompany an uncaring corpse
it is that dress, that veil
& the feeling in those letters
that will translate into fire, freed
***Don’t know why you did it, NPS, but I had to steal the idea for a poem.
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How symbolic ~ fascinating
Thank you Polly–had to write this after she told me she did it. Would not tell me why.
Susan, great! I don’t know if this is what you were going for, but I instantly jumped to an image of brides in India, from the past, a really despicable thing where when the husband died, they would throw the wife on the funeral pyre as well. I imagine this is still practiced in some rural areas. I just rereard, don’t think that was the point of your poem – I really enjoyed it.
Trent–thanks for the comment. I was suggesting suttee, that horrible practice, but instead of ritual murder, it was the burning of a relationship with no value any more. Was trying, rather clumsily, to suggest a liberation using hints of a terrible, murderous tradition to get it done.
Right, okay. Sati is how I know it. I’ve been to India, it’s a tradition that is an absolute blight.
Oh, it is. Horrible. Cannot believe the total lack of respect for life, countless lives, that makes such a thing possible.
I know. Unfortunately some people grow up with these things and have them ingrained as being normal, and then conversely expect the rest of us to respect their traditions. Some traditions/customs should not be respected.
Exactly. Some traditions/customs are horrible and need to never be seen on this earth again–except as examples of what NOT to do to one another.
Amazing !!!
Thanks, GS. I am so glad I have friends who engage in wild, extravagant gestures that inspire 😉
I see a speak out, a symbolic rejection and celebration of the demise of a Harmful traditional practice. Reminds me of my song of Rejoicing!
Yes, exactly–and then using a suggestion of that to further liberate oneself (at least symbolically) from something oppressive. Oh–you flatter me–I love that poem–such a gorgeous celebration!
Nice… and oh my… Adele in my head.
🙂 good sounds to have there.
I cried with this~ther a lonesome feel, a sense of invisibility that aches in her… maybe I’m wrong but it pried my soul open!
Deb–no right or wrong here–every take is valid.
love it susan !!
Thanks, Don!
I find this a very moving piece, curtain closing on a life and another one opening to new possibilities. A beautiful sympolic poem.
Thanks, Celestine. I had to write it–gestures that grand, that sweeping should inspire us, I think.