B l u e P a t c h e s

02

02| o r a n g e & w h i t e h a i r ;

" Holding her godly dress,
Heaving practical sighs,

She goes wherever she's told to,
With Just one plastic bag hiding a galaxy,

hunched spine and papery hands,

Dresses hanging in a harmonious sympathy,

With stories of war etched on their embroideries,

Scratching her orange coloured hair,
With white powder sprinkled everywhere,

Grieve looming above her head,
  Memories rusting into memoirs,

Marks on her stomach rumbling to tell stories,

How painfully she had to take 77 steps,

  Brown and yellows blooming inside her mouth,

Shivering limbs and rolling eyes,
Unable to breathe sometimes,

She reminisces her 24 steps  ,
Oh how  pleasant they were,

Filled with smiling toddlers,
And a warm stubbled body laced with smoke,

Vanished within a winter's mist,
Surrounded by silhouettes claiming love,

She still feels suffocated,
Underneath layers of blankets she still shivers

Sobbing over long lost warmth. "

- My great grandmother was married at the age of 15, I've talked to her couple of times and this was what I could get out of her jumbled words and silent actions. She kind of hates me pestering her for questions cause she witnessed the great subcontinent war led by British so me being a history freak couldn't help but be curious.