Cries of laughter cascading from above,

The soulful union, could there be love?

A boisterous figure rejuvenated once more,

Could her joy be short-lived yet again?

Is this a façade? A false laden hope,

Blind following, ‘does the boy smoke?’

Hisses the rumouring aunt.

Dance is a well known practise amongst these parts,

Practise, perform, who knows are you next?

‘Is he married, I certainly hope not!’

Cries the same aunt has she not forgot?

The communion is not a rumour mill per se,

But tell that to the mild tempered aunt caught in that fray!

‘Your eyes are as blue as the Sea!’

No, how dare you throw such a cheap cliché!

Bellows the rejuvenated figure,

Hysteria engulfs the masses behind,

The light hearted humour, is it a cover?

Sinister intent, is she about to discover?

Never, no, impossible grumbles the mother

Colour, bright lights, the scent of desire,

Is lust the answer? Or do you admire,

The smirk makes it seem very unlikely,

His eyes describe his horrible intentions,

Parent’s smiles, cheer, embrace each other,

What was it this time? Did this bride have a lover?

The rain washes away the footprints of hope,

Was it fear? That brought you on this slippery slope,

No way back, maybe happiness perhaps Disaster?

‘You must listen to him’ why? He is not my master?

Her emotions hidden. Her feelings unknown,

Her smile deprived,

Has she ever felt more alone?

Standing triumphantly on his throne,

The male visage, of him and him alone,

Standing strong to take his bride,

His ideology as narrow as her’s is wide,

What lasts in this communion is not up to her, not even him,

But she must obey his each and every whim…

 By Mohamed-Zain Dada

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