Bedeck your hands with henna

Just to see what patterns will be made

In a shade of orangey saffron, leaving your hands

Smelling like the tea that was added to the henna beforehand

Put on your new dress

Of the softest cloth, splashes of blue

Wind with the teal to make enchanting patterns bordered

By the shimmering sequins and beads the hue of summer skies

Shy away from the arriving strangers

As the prayer mats are spread out on the floor

Too meek to join in with the prayers and instead listen to the refrain of the azaan

Look for your cousins

To play around with because you don’t

Want to be too old to run around in the fields

And be a part of the pattern made by the swaying grass

Stand beside the palm tree

As the cow is tied down, eyes rolling

Because it knows what will happen and tries to deny fate

Watch the blade strike the neck of the beast and the flowing blood making grim crimson patterns

Stand on the stair looking out into

The breezy darkness and sigh as the scent of beef curry

Wafts outside and mingles with the brisk odor of the night whilst

The moon beams down and stars shimmer conspiratorially, patterns of iridescent flames in the inky blue