landay for the lonely voice
I find her garden’s half-twisted strands
revealing her thigh, she beckons to me with her hands
for she, like me, is a lonely voice
she is denied many things, cloaked midnight forms her choice
halfway across the field of poppy
new moon won’t betray us if longing makes us sloppy
she shows me where the smoothness meets soft
our muffled duet sows the seeds, budding, climb aloft
am I man enough to feel her bloom?
her garden’s an oasis; if she shares, I’ll consume
exchanged cloaked kisses in silhouette
we’ll fuck among flowers till night ends our suffragette
Written for NaPoWriMo's landay prompt, and imaginary garden with real toads' Going Halvsies prompt. The following is exerpt from the poetryfoundation.org page which describes the landay in great detail:
"A landay has only a few formal properties. Each has twenty-two syllables: nine in the first line, thirteen in the second. The poem ends with the sound “ma” or “na.” Sometimes they rhyme, but more often not. In Pashto, they lilt internally from word to word in a kind of two-line lullaby that belies the sharpness of their content, which is distinctive not only for its beauty, bawdiness, and wit, but also for the piercing ability to articulate a common truth about war, separation, homeland, grief, or love. Within these five main tropes, the couplets express a collective fury, a lament, an earthy joke, a love of home, a longing for the end of separation, a call to arms, all of which frustrate any facile image of a Pashtun woman as nothing but a mute ghost beneath a blue burqa."While my effort certainly doesn't come close to the the essential nature of true landay, after reading about the history, I felt compelled to at least try to provide some kind of voice to the voiceless.