Peripheral Vision | Poetry


The poem that you are about to read is sculpted with the dark taints of arranged marriage. It talks about its whole process and how viewing it from a different angle, such as from a peripheral vision can show us a different aspect of it. Maybe, under the sound of blaring trumpets, arranged marriages, especially for girls, are a result of social suffocation. The poem ponders about the simple fact that if it wasn’t for the arrangement, would you even have had a word with the person you married/marrying?

I tell my heart,
that you are someone special.
Just because you think
I am someone special.
For I have been taught
To not to reject, to not to deny,
To not to say no, as it’s wrong.

Even if it’s the truth, with no harm, it’s wrong.
So, I rather make myself love you.
In this arranged bond,
I have to love you.
In this arranged bond,
I have no choice.
As this arranged bond
Is a heavy price.

I had no others.
As I was always told
To always see brothers, in boys.
Tea cups and clay dough as choice.
I was always taught home science,
No science, but creativity, through the clay, though.
So I create an illusion that I love you.

On this marriage bed
Of dead roses,
That fills the air of their sacrifices
Of life and youth.
I sacrifice. I make myself believe
That you are unique.
That you are someone special.

But darling, when I lost you in the crowd,
You looked just like them.
From my peripheral vision,
Just like the crowd, bland.
Someone that I would have ignored,
In flights, seas, land.
If it was not for this arrangement,
I wouldn’t even have looked at you.

From my peripheral vision,
I could see this prison.
I could see clearer.




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