Screaming silences

Three members of a family and their silences.

Every day from break of dawn
Till dusk takes over soothingly
I work, like he and she,
Pots and pots to fill;
Loud gush, the only sound
To fill the screaming silence.
At other times, not a drop
No relief, except that hopeful drop
Clinging to the tap
Like the heavy thoughts
Clouding the two bland faces
The thoughts that never become words.
The drop that never falls
And then the pots stay dry
All that remains: a screaming silence.

________________

Aches and pains every day
The hot sun on my back
Streams of sweat flowing freely
More freely than water from the tap.
Evenings bring relief
Lovely coffee and a tired smile
Drooping shoulders, a crumpled sari
Tangled hair in stringy mess
Not a word.
Eyes can speak too, if they wish.
They don't. I can speak too.
I feel, I know, I understand.
But I can't speak. I can only bark.
Is there time to understand?
_____________________

Bent over the stove
Kerosene and grime,
The broomstick, the mop,
The chopping board and the knife
Stooping by the well,
Under the weight of water pots,
The sizzling pan over the fire,
The serving spoon and the waiting plate,
Mounds of clothes waiting for wash,
Scraping vegetables, scaling fish,
Putting baby to sleep,
Serving the old, the weak, the sick
Where is the time to stand up straight
To lift one's eyes and see
Face to face.
Those helpless eyes
Yearning mad for words.
But I have none.
I stoop over the stove again.
A warm coffee is all I have to give.