Friday, September 20, 2013

Two Cries while Serving Tea in an 18th Century Miniature

    I.  To My Master

Caught, I am, in servitude
Miniaturized as one
in Orient’s multitude
I am your slave to serve tea.

“Tread quietly!  Do not disturb!”
So you command.
Color given only to my shoes.
Only my outline given form,
My self to disappear into the paper

You have had me framed
in colors gay and floral
But your heavy black vines
are placed to imprison me.

I shall protest once more.

II. To my Creator

You, with the power to create a universe
as God have drawn me into servitude
yet pretending to art’s neutrality.
Giving color to the flowers and even
the lowly shoes on my feet
you drew me caught and bland,
to blend as ochre
into the paper as if I, a woman
am to disappear, becoming wall paper
for life’s passings by.  What have you
caught with the heavy vines,
if not man’s oppression?

1 comment:

  1. Lovely, lovely poem set. Excellent rhythm, and vine imprisonment is smartly drawn image.