My skin like the bed of a parched river.
My cracked heels like the tilled earth.
A black thread round my waist.
And, I don’t have anything else.
One day, I took refuse in water
That sparkling waves were my mother’s doleful eyes
Those brown waves were my father’s strong shoulders
Which helped me to stand straight.
Those were the tales of some other lives,
I was a bunch of mustard flowers
And she, who fuelled my life,
She grew on my body like a green leaf...