Only the Rice Cries
A procession to her death
in a long white dress
The guests claim
it is her lucky day
They throw fistfuls of rice
for good fortune
not knowing
that the grains will fall
onto the kitchen floor
Her bare knees press
into the piercing tiles
a punishment from mother
taunting from the grave
Shameful child
the one who went down a slide
in a short dress
kissed the boy next door
and his sister too
She swallows the agony
of her kneeled prayer
and vows to suppress
her tears and innate desires
A fresh pot of rice
cooks on the stove
as she awaits her husband
with perfectly curled hair
coral red lips
and eyes winged black
She breathes in the steam
knowing that
a mist of tiny water droplets
is the closest she will get
to crying
About the Author: Mari Kitina writes to find beauty in the mundane and to uncover the secrets that live within her. She is the self-published author of ππ’π€π¬ π΅π° ππ’π―π€π¦ and has been featured in ππ―π¬ ππ― ππ©πͺπ³π₯π΄ ππ’π¨π’π»πͺπ―π¦ online and on FiftyWordStories.com.
Image Credit: Russell Lee “Examining rice to determine progress of milling operation, Crowley, Louisiana, state rice mill” (1938) Public domain image courtesy of The Library of Congress.
As It Ought To Be 