Only My Heart Has Hope

Only my heart has hope,

as I unveil

the dying sun of my freedom.

I watch,

helplessly

as it erases itself-

from deep within my memory.

Looking out at the pale stretch of sky,

I… I remember:

hope, is stronger than the fears-

that I face.

For hope is what hold me here.

I must remain-

tethered to the window,

watching for a sign.

Perhaps, it ought

to be a change in the weather,

or maybe, a flock of birds

finally passing on by;

dividing the ever stillness

of my heavens.

I shall wither here.

And in my standing place

will remain my heart;

full of mirth and full of faith.

Alas, no.

My heart aches

with the anticipation.

“A ceremony will take place” my father had said,

something I could never question.

For it-

my duty

as a beloved, doting daughter.

Knowledge prevails

and all I know

that there was

an exchange between my father

and his.

Money for my hand,

an extension of our lands.

“A feigned love could be true”

said the voices in my head

a repetition

to be voiced aloud.

For I will breathe back:

“this is cannot be.”

I were to wear

a fine silk gown, weighed down

by wealth and status.

Ebony tendrils high upon my crown,

Woven, freshly-cut water lilies,

exotic fruits and nuts- aplenty.

Around my neck,

my only bridal gift:

A mirroring, thumb sized locket.

A small, gentle comfort

lain against my breast.

Holding my future

in its reflective glass.

As I stand

by the man, whom I must give

my love and vows,

a promise I must make, to

love him tenderly so

and never break

Until,

‘Death do us part.’

Only then,

will my heart remain with hope.

As the doors reopen to unveil

the set sun of my freedom,

all erased

but:

“A feigned love could be true.”