Kneeling,bending, bowing, chanting.
Fragrant burning sticks delight mynose.
Lost.
Confused like a foreigner.
I watch my own mom
Her flowingsari,
a mixture of saffron,
peach and apricot
shames my jeans andt-shirt.
Embarrassed,
I study the statue of Krishna adorned
in goldcrowns, rope necklaces, bracelets, and jewels.
Suddenly, I look at my mom'sface
To the bindi, red dot, between her eyes.
She blinks.
Now Icomprehend the meaning of
kneeling, bending, bowing, chanting.
A Visit to Iran by Sharzad S., Hercules, CA
New Year's Eve by Mikel P., Lancaster, PA
London Morning by Jill D., Ludlow, MA
If I Had Been Born A Boy by Elaine S., Congers, NY
One Foot at a Time by Nicole S., International Falls, MN
My Indian Name by Michael S., Ashland, WI
