WOMEN IN SHROUDS
Widows in a sacred town silently stitch shrouds, their shattered dreams consumed…
Read more →Women, in war-torn lands, discover silent strength, rooting in darkness for new profound resilient possibilities
Dedicated to the sisters in war ravaged countries
At the end of the day
When the words died out in sentences
and men hang on clotheslines
like starched sheets
and the barbaric chaos of war-odour
perpetually engulfs and numbs them
and when their blue-emerald eyes
become a mere myth
Then the women of those lands
where pain blooms like poppies
realise that there is no hope
that the dust over ancestors’ graves
will ever settle down
there will be no fragrant-spring morning
to herald the future
Instead a cryptic paroxysm
will invade their homes and hearts
a freeze-frame of time
spreads over the world‘s dark mutability
forcing those sisterly silhouettes
to sink into darkness
In penetrating intimacy of darkness
these women will strike roots silently
and turn themselves
into a matrix
with profound possibilities