mixed fruit Rinsing Rice
It is not done until the water runs clear. Cloudiness in the water, Starch in the rice.
Light and airy is its uncovered nature.
It is not done, until each undesirable is removed. Fibers, and stone, Removed from the grains.
Soft and fluffy is its finest pleasure.
6 times I cover the measured rice with water. Stirring with my right hand, Churning its defilements to the surface. And then the left hand slowly pouring water Through the cracks between the fingers of the right, A bodily strainer for rice, or a cleansing of soul, The line is blurry like the water.
My father checks the work.
It is not done.
And I continue to stand at the sink, Rinsing rice, Seeking clarity. ~Ritu Nanos photo & poem by Ritu Nanos
MAY 2021
redfruit
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