Silent sister, when will you speak?

My sisters are silent
we have left our roots behind
many times.

We married and
assumed new identities.
many new names
and we watch ourselves changing

we caress the silk sari lovingly
remembering who was with us
when we bought it
and who we were then

we wear these jewels wrapped
around our very souls
each strand
weighed down with memories

We shine
silently
on those special evenings
known only by the identities of
our men and children
people nod, we nod back
we speak to the sisters
that we know well
others are also like us
wives and mothers
just that

We look at every milestone
we gave birth
and were reborn in other ways.

We've moved with
the careers of our husband

We've made a home
wherever we have lived.

We've left bits of ourselves behind
and attached new parts
to our old selves.

We prepare our children
to share their poems and shlokas,

we dress them up in their cultural clothes.
we buy them journals at Dollarama

and save their drawings
lest they crumple them and forget

we witness the journeys of all
and we're silent about our own

We stir pachdi, and bake eggless cakes.
We sing with our children
as our hearts beat with theirs
willing them from afar to complete the bhajan
we had sung together last night

Yet we do not tell our stories
we are silent

We have voices too
you know
that are waiting to be heard

You are more than a mother,
or a wife
or Mrs. This or Mrs. That

You are the first born daughter of your parents
or perhaps the only one
or the youngest 'ladli' of your family

Speak then, sister
don't be shy

there is enough room for your story

the silence doesn't befit you
as you too, are the daughter
of
Shakti.