another poem by me - 'Burdened' (3)

 ... 

Finally,

I see those returning to the city to live. 

I see a young but large man, 

With greasy mid-length hair,

A thick handlebar moustache,

A well-worn Shalwar Kameez,

And thin, brown chappals. 

He was frowning, 

But I could almost imagine him smiling: 

I pictured a sadistic, 

Misogynist smile, 

One full of contempt, 

And anger. 

I look to his right, and I see his wife,

A small woman,

Bundled in an outfit twice her size. 

She is wearing a full black hijab, 

With little floral embellishments. 

She clutches her little brown purse, 

And her suitcase decorated with pink spring flowers. 

She grows uncomfortable and the man’s sweaty touch, 

I can see it in her eyes,

From across the boarding lounge. 

What did this flight mean to her? 

She had a picture, 

A moment of bliss.

A honeymoon in a foreign city, 

Where everything was fun and light. 

But the city by the sea was one of domesticity,

One where women were seldom allowed to speak.

This flight would take her to a place, 

Where her sweaty husband,

Would own her. 

As we walk onto the plane, 

I see her husband’s body

Almost plastered onto hers. 

Her shoulders are drooping, 

And her eyes are sullen. 

Burden. 

Burdened by the weight of married life? 

Of conformity? 

Of silence? 

Of misery? 

Of suffering? 

The city by the sea was waiting for her, 

And who knew what was to come next. 

All she knew, 

Was that this plane, 

Would transport her to a place, 

Where she would no longer have a face. 

She would just be a body, 

A body to fill the husband’s space. 

I look at this flight filled with people, 

All headed to the same place. 

We are different in our looks,

And in our names, 

But we are all united

In one way. 

That way was burden, 

And it all left us feeling grey.