Woman by the Door – Three poems by Kashiana Singh
‘meanwhile, you stir life / into us, our faces cupped / in the folds of your / turmeric stained / hands – / held by a firm wrist / draped / in a beaded rosary’
The following poems are excerpted from Kashiana Singh’s upcoming collection, Woman by the Door, to be published by Apprentice House Press in Maryland, U.S.A., in February 2022.
The Kitchen that is also a Monastery
I wish to memorialize the
kitchen in your home, one
where you meditate at the
stove
each pancake a gospel
for which we
saved powdered
sugar from a red tin jar
that deliberated, monk like
alone on your kitchen shelf
Your kitchen is also of abundance
It watches over the content manner
of your chopping, saintly—
measured cubes of
squeaky clean vegetables
sharp by cut, layered
onions first, pink blushed
potato squares, before they
are dropped into a bowl
of ice-cold water
slow devotionals
playing in the background
your eyes melting into tears
carrots and peppers
always in juliennes
cauliflower florets
perfectly pristine as
you flicked them apart.
I remember watching
in awe, your fingers
elegant as they form
shadows on egg white
walls.
Your kitchen is also a monastery
I remember you humming
a symmetrical prayer
and with a quick move of your
wrist, you submerged sparse
offerings into a fiercely clean
pan—
one that sputters spotless
as it gathers your warmth
meanwhile, you stir life
into us, our faces cupped
in the folds of your
turmeric stained
hands –
held by a firm wrist
draped
in a beaded rosary
Your kitchen is so radiant
I remember you as
stubbornly insistent
about the daily
ardaas/arzdasht
for sarbat da bhala
as you were about the
exact proportions in
the healing spoon of
five
spice –
I remember the kitchen epoxy
being bathed in a dewy caress
a periwinkle blue-purple gaze
of heavens peeping at dawn.
*
Children in Cages
after Martín Espada’s “Floaters”
What else would you expect
of children in cages, playing
with balls and dolls, camps
turned into witness stands
they encourage the singing
of simple songs, gathering
their notes in soccer balls
and inside limbs of broken
dolls, they break back into
cages.
What else should we expect
of children in cages, waiting
too long.
simmering broth on her stove
awaits, the shadows lengthen.
there is nothing to be done
a caged bird does not sing.
*
Just a process after all
“in our village are short and to the point.” “Funerals” by James Laughlin
The hustle of the five days after you.
They prescribe 10 to 30 days of mourning.
The completion of mandatory actions like
curdled milk, ghee, oil lamps, candles, pristine sheets,
tilted tears, jasmine-filled condolences, food and guests.
Your hands were placed in the position of prayer, as the floor was sprinkled with water.
Purification. Release. Rebirth.
Meanwhile, a forgotten notebook still open at your desk.
Your baritone voice has barely gathered inside the cold walls of the urn.
Cannot bring ashes home or keep the urn in your room.
Ramification. Release. Rebirth.
I feel you. Almost grinning at the edge if its polished rim before it bobbles away into the setting sun.
The incense burns. You promise to reach me as soon as you are there.
We gather at the dinner table. Extended family and all.
Purgation. Release. Rebirth.
Today we serve rajma–chawal. Tomorrow is chicken curry day, exactly like you relish it.
I wish you could hear them asking me if I would write something about the process.
I wish you would come back.
for a day. So, I could save one soaked drop of your voice
and nest its vibration within my
rib-cage.
Salvation.
***
When Kashiana Singh is not writing, she lives to embody her TEDx talk theme of Work as Worship into her every day. She currently serves as poetry editor for Poets Reading the News. Her chapbook Crushed Anthills by Yavanika Press is a journey through 10 cities. She is currently knitting a new collection, Woman by the Door. You can find more information on her website. She is on Twitter: @Kashianasingh and Instagram: @kashianasingh.
