Her dress was enticing,
Consisting of two pulsating colors.
Gold for radiance.
Natural with green.
A veil of sequin embroidery
To honor her culture.
A bindi between her brows
To show she was becoming a woman.
A diamond shaped stone,
Red to symbolize love,
To attract good fortune.
Her smile was so real,
Unmistakably full
Of desire and hope.
She reported to the world
That it was the happiest day
Of her life.
When she was asked
If she loved him,
She looked down in self infamy.
“It’s not about love,
It’s about marriage
And honor.
It’s for my father.”
I thought that love
Was an intricate emotion
That could not be forced out.
Not for love?
Not for herself?
But for her father?
When my rhetorical question of ‘why?’
Was rejected by my own beliefs
Of soul mates and unknown destiny,
I turned the page of this month’s
Time magazine.