Mehendi

She left without warning,
and returned with mehendi-coloured hands,
ring-bound to a man from foreign lands,
eyes glistened with tears of happiness and confusion.
I've warned of love and loss,
yet still failed to see--blind.
Now as we danced to the rhythm of the Banghra,
a haunting yet joyful theme of happiness and regret,
though we praise and cheer,
the celebrations raze huddled spirits
that know and worry that our gifts are forgotten.
Like the mehendi we decorate the skin of Indian daughters,
a binding, artful chain that marks remembrance and promise,
until we are washed by water and time,
like we were meant to.

Copyright ©2007 Rizal Repin
Silver Prize Winner 2006
International Library of Poetry