The unwed mother

I  was told time and again 

By my wise mother 

that I was but a field 

to be given away to my husband 

where he shall sow his seeds 

and reap the harvest. 

Harvests are always celebrated!!

Have you not seen the colorful revelries 

of  Onam, Pongal, Baisakhi or Bihu?

Why then the crop of my field 

still unripe and tender 

such a disgrace, an occasion of such lament? 

If the owner of the seeds would not 

accept his harvest, why can't I be 

both the field and celebrator of my harvest? 

-Neha Bansal