N Arhe
She saunters down the dusty walkway.
Donning a woven fabric—set into a garment:
Adorning the forgotten pathway,
Her shoes reveal years of weathering her torment.
Her home is ablaze with seasonal flowers.
Her home, 'til she finds a suitable man to marry:
And like being caught in heavy thundershowers,
Her life whittles away in a scurry.
She once proudly carried her family name,
Bridal vows ebbed her importance:
Protesting her belittlement is lame.
As tradition says, she’d be unworthy of an inheritance.
She inspires her daughter with her lovesome heart,
Tenacity runs in her bloodline—her father’s keeper.
