Trousseau

I am feeding a part of an ancestral thread
filling the space with memories; the tradition of farewells
never becomes old –
paving my way
held by ancient armsI put the barbie dolls away but the rag doll goes into the packing with you
        a reminder of the years
that attach you to my umbilical cord
we bid farewell to our daughters
beginning with stripping all colors apart
weaving  we begin
with all shades of orange
the yellows and then comes the green
the mustard…
then the  ubptan ¹ ;
the scrubbing the laughter , tears and  the dholak ²
brothers dancing,singing
alongside late nights and samosa memories
of love
of relationships that are trusted
they will hold onto you.as you go forth
building new spaces
new findings
new bonds
we have bordered you with gota³
to light any dark moments
that traditional view to look through for perspective
and
the gharara⁴ speckled with starlight dreamy embroidery
when you take those steps
to cross my threshold into the next
tread gently
there are memories all over the house
step softly
around her
for you tread on ancient lives
that have gathered to send her forth