Willow Silvera

November 11, 2005-Connectcuit

Dance of the Devadasi

She emerges like
A willowy swan
Onyx butterflies
Resting on her widened
Striking bronze eyes,
Wearing an Ivory sari
An ersatz Taj Mahal
Draped in intricate gold trim
Her long braid flings
Through the fragrant air
As her identity
Dissolves into the rhythm
And she surrenders
To the beating of the drum
Jasmine crowns her head
Jewels clinking, jangling
As her toes skim the ground
And her henna tipped fingers
Dance with the flow of the veena
Rosy cheeks as she pushes through
On this stage,
She is free.
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