The old woman
Sisters apply yellow beeswax paste to her smooth creamy skin
brows plucked ever so thin
deep, red etchings in her skin a symbol of ever-lasting love and no troubles
her clothes: simple, cotton — the breeze coming through
the old woman remembers the time she met her groom
in those days they were introduced as mere strangers looking at one another across the room
a mystery the day the knot is tied
a mystery the remain to each other
here is a new kind of love: of choice, of freedom in and of choice
the groom looks on to the bride
lusting after her among her sisters, brothers, mums, dads
the flowery embroidered cloth spreads over her
covering her
shading her from the strength of the sun
her faced covered in gluey paste
cleansing her, shedding her of the old
the old woman looks on
tears filling her eyes
imagining the time corner-to-corner the cloth was held
protecting her from the reality: mystery man and mystery woman
the groom watches her
looks on like the day first day he met her
mystery then
mystery now