6
Sachi Ni Bhulna
Don't speak the truth
by Jassi K. Bassi
all day she walks through the shared garden
carrying the clay jug on top of her head
her long tresses slither down her spine
her chunjra sing praising her angelic face
when she walks by the old men playing cards
she can feel invisible hands grabbing at her hips
she can feel the hands sliding up under the silk of her blouse
claiming her like a prize not like a heer
that deserves to be held up to the light by a lover
a lover that knows how to appreciate beauty
if she wanted to stop them she wouldn't dare
because her hands are full full of duties
the duties of a daughter sister niece bride to be
and the duties of a woman in a culture that wouldn't believe her
if she said the hands were real.