“A Mayan Maiden” dVerse Open Link #64

She looks to curry favour while living in chaos.
“I married too young, now the silence
feels violent. I hear tiny insects rubbing wings,
and ants marching in the grass.”

She buys roses in a variety
of colours, but they appear
stagnant; petals cover tabletops, long,
lost, weathered stems peer out.

From her stoop, she invites me for
sopa de calabaza … sprigs of epazote
languish in circling cream.

Sitting in her concealed frame, clutching
friendless sorrow, we both smile
invisible indifference.

“The mirror has two reflections,” she says.
“One’s alive with perfect trust,
the other splits us in two.”

In open sincerity, we continue eating.

*sopa de calbaza – pumpkin blossom soup (SOH-pah de kah-lah-BAH-sah
epazote – a Mexican herb (eh-pah-SOH-teh)

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20 responses to ““A Mayan Maiden” dVerse Open Link #64

  1. wow…love that..love that she invited you and you shared that soup together…eating together brings people closer together i think…love that part with the mirror as well

    • Claudia, eating together is a big part of living here, I am usually invited to eat with someone and their family at least once a week. This poem is really a compilation of several woman I have known over the past ten years here in Mexico.

  2. pumpkin soup does not sound half bad…smiles….those quotes on the mirror in the end…truth…and interesting way to put it….the clutching friendless sorrow, we both smile….line is heart felt as well….

    • Brian, this soup is not to be confused with pumpkin soup, which is completely different and sweet. In fact, I had never heard of anyone eating the blossoms of a pumpkin til I moved here. Pumpkin blossom soup is savory and a delight to the senses, for me anyway :). Sorrow is friendless, isn’t it? Thanks.

  3. Always fascinating to read portraits this well drawn of personalities one wouldn’t ordinarily meet. I catch a glimpse of a world that is different, but also all too familiar, where the ‘silence is violent..’ and sharing soup is all one can do.

    • Joy, yes, I know/have known many women who seem to have based their whole lives round the raising the family, catering to the husbands, and in the end they (not all of them) have lost part of themselves along the way. Thanks.

  4. You paint the obvious bridge across time, across cultures, across differences, and that is what unites us…love, food, beauty, and appreciation. Wonderfully executed!

  5. Whatever it was you ate sounds yummy. I love the mirror reflections.

  6. Phew… fabulous Pamela.
    Really enjoyed all of it but, loved this:
    Sitting in her concealed frame, clutching
    friendless sorrow, we both smile
    invisible indifference.

    Amazing portrayal of someone’s character traits.

    • Thanks, Bren. I feel that we do share an invisible indifference, something you just can’t quite understand about the other person. It is not that I feel callous toward them, I simply can’t relate on all levels is all.

  7. Pamela, these words say so much:
    “we both smile
    invisible indifference.”

    I have known situations like this….and could, therefore, picture the whole scene you set quite well. Some things both just do out of politeness, it seems, with no real feeling.

  8. Pam, this is a great write! Love it!

  9. I love that you capture the life and culture of the people where you live. Takes me on a journey without ever having been there.

  10. Thanks, Renee. I always love to see you 🙂

  11. Lovely poem – the interweave of the personalities and the physical objects – the roses, the soup, very well done here. A lot of understatement very well carried out through your restraint and thoughtfulness. k.

I appreciate all comments.

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