Dancing Saffron Threads
Of brass and silver,
Strung together in soft cotton string,
On a padded velvet cushion,
Rested ever so elegantly,
Right above her coloured ankles,
Embellished with bright red henna,
Teasing each other at every beat,
Singing to the rhythm of clashing cymbals,
As vivid tassels flowed effortlessly,
Gracefully with the sway of her hips.
Oh, how wonderful this is,
Her soul sings to her hearts' content,
As her cup of life now feels full,
Dancing to the footsteps her ancestors left,
Across the room filled with people,
Somehow a pair of wrinkled eyes of rich history,
Stared back in awe,
In all her pride and delight,
Cheering silently with her loving smile,
And blessing those fleeting feet with her spirit,
"This is for you Nana"
Whispered the voices in her head
Comforting moments painted her memories,
Clearly remembering those shrivelled hands,
She once held,
She once held,
As she happily hopped and fretted along,
Her grandmother's six yards of drape,
Of emerald green and carmine red sari,
How oblivious this young heart was then,
To uphold such precious traditions,
Of an abiding ancient art,
Adorned with vibrant jewelleries on her ears, nose and neck,
Celebrating the glory of life,
With gestures of her fingers,
And the curvature of her poised spine,
Treasures of her cultural legacy,
Played through the sands of time,
Now beautifully portrayed for millions to see,
As this expression of art births new creation,
Now beautifully portrayed for millions to see,
As this expression of art births new creation,
Exquisite,
As the dancing saffron threads.
As the dancing saffron threads.
By Jessica John Poskođź’—
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