mustard is also yellow.

Asta
Apr 26, 2021
7 min read

Updated: Jul 19, 2022

By Asta

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All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

~J. R. R TOLKIEN

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Once upon a time, there was a girl named Marigold and she decided she wanted so much more than snore-worthy knitting, tea boiling kettles, little farm animals! However, she dared not speak a word of it just yet…instead she let her mind wander far and further until a little voice whispered –

Reach through that distance,

Through space, time and need

To spread your wings with insistence.

Enough of that resistance,

No longer will you bleed.

Reach through that distance.

Yes, you have a queer divergence.

So alas, this is a good deed:

To spread your wings with insistence.

Look, not everyone listens.

But you soon will - thus we are agreed.

Reach through that distance.

You need no more assistance.

You must simply heed,

To spread your wings with insistence.

Danced your way through existence,

Understand, you are now freed:

To escape all those restrictions.

To spread your wings…with insistence.

Then little missy Mari heaved a great sigh, and thought of how magical it would be to go back in time; to make her far less odd than everybody reckoned she was. Maybe then they would believe her when she would say she wanted a change…

To wind back the clocks, wouldn’t that be sublime?

Freezing each moment of my minds’ eye,

Like Jack Frost gliding through time.

Bet it would be worth more than a dime!

So now I will not be shy,

To wind back the clocks, wouldn’t that be sublime?

It would be as bright as sunshine!

Come here, don’t give me a sigh- we can be

Like Jack Frost gliding through time.

We could prevent a crime!

And no one, again, would have to die:

To wind back the clocks, wouldn’t that be sublime?

Although we’ll be as silent as a pantomime,

You taught me it wasn’t right to spy

Like Jack Frost gliding through time.

Oh, now you expect a punchline.

There isn’t one- you taught me not to lie!

I know what is impossible, still I dream of all things divine,

Like Jack Frost gliding through time.

The following day as she awoke at dawn, the girl found her heart throb as she recalled, from her dreams, her closest dear companion, then wished she could just forget and overlook.

For my darling shimmering angel,

I miss you terribly; come home soon.

Nevertheless, now I must be my own sentinel.

Do return if you are able,

I still have plenty of room

For my darling shimmering angel.

You were my glorious carousel.

Presently I do suffer…see, I am not immune!

Nevertheless, now I must be my own sentinel.

Though painful, I try to make each broken part assemble…

I will stand by till the roses bloom in June,

For my darling shimmering angel.

Oh, to wish for some splendid individual!

You gave me treasures greater than the moon,

Nevertheless, now I must be my own sentinel.

So now as I sit by the table,

Sheltered safely by my cowardly cocoon,

I remember how waiting can indeed be most fatal.

Nevertheless, now I must be my own sentinel.

As Marigold got dressed, she pondered awfully hard: why, oh why were things so difficult? She was quite thoughtful for a young girl, and believed in countless possibilities. But there were moments like these when everything seemed like a superbly clever twisted trick. So, she did rant-

My life is a game of chess

I am the queen

I’m not protecting the king

I wish only to leave this dreadful place called ‘board’, to somewhere

Where the world has other colors, not just dumb black and white.

As I run to the other side

In hopes to find a new life

With king’s worth ruling and queen’s worth being,

I brace to launch into a new domain.

But the pawns are dying

The knights are flying

And my king is sighing

I say yet again, “we’re all just trying”.

Sometime later, after exiting an extraordinary class filled with the learnings of the vibrant river Nile she noticed the older girls bullying a little one who lived across the street to Marigold, and whom she’d known for a long time. Then Mari wished to yell at them with all her heart…

You won’t think so,

But if you ask me,

You’ll hear me say

That she’s strong.

I think we’ve always got along,

And I hope we will for lifelong.

She’s a ton of fun,

And could never be a nun,

But she could run

Right through the sun.

You won’t think so

But if you asked me,

You’ll hear me say

That it’s because she’s

Strong.

That night brought another dream. Marigold woke the next morning with the scene of floating gently away in the cool, lovely, beckoning water still flashing in her mind. But it was only later that she realized that despite the peaceful quiet, she was actually drowning as she submerged herself into the cool blue.

Pops of bubbles

Heavy eyelids

Writhing limbs

Thundering heartbeat.

But no struggle

Kept at ease

Along with peace

With clear musical melodies.

As you drift

The sun sets

The sky darkens

And the colors hit

The depths of the blue bottom bed

Your eyelids open wide with surprise

As the stone-cold surface finds

Its next apprentice

Towards the end

Of the shallows

That open wide,

Clear against the musical melodic skies.

Pushing that thought aside, Mari spent much of her free day sitting with her kindest friend- the white willow tree- and imagining fierce adventures… seeing the northern lights, traveling to tropical rainforests, standing beneath the cherry blossoms of Japan, studying the yellow warbler…oh, especially the warbler!

…wonder when I could see the world myself,

To climb up the ladder to things unknown,

And feel like I am sitting on a throne.

Oh, to explore, and not sit on a shelf!

But no hope, I am treated like an elf.

They see me strange – I wish I could atone.

No, even bargained they would not condone.

It sure would be considered as some pelf.

Still and all, waiting provides its own quest.

Not as exciting as other affairs,

Yet I wouldn’t want some different jest.

Though I’d love to set out a few lit flares,

I guess I should soon prepare for the test –

To ensure I don’t fall into more snares.

Later, she woke with a start. Marigold had dozed off! Looking up now she could see the sun barely peaking from the horizon… she was late to go home! This meant trouble- so she stood up, waved goodbye to her tree and sprinted wildly towards home, all the while thinking of the possible excuses she could give-

“Mother, so sorry,

I was watering the plants

For dear Mrs. Hants!”

“I went to help Sue,

With her history project

About Einstein (?), see?”

“Was feeding the cats,

They are always hungry right?

Chasing all those rats…”

“Oh, it is so late!

A boy fell into the lake!

We all went to aid.”

Oh, but it was no use. The moment she entered the house she was bombarded. Her mother had been waiting by the dining table with a false image of calm, which seemed to immediately snap as Mari came in with her head hung low…

How – how many times must I say

That being out late is risky!

And someday you’ll have to pay.

You can’t daydream all day.

This is more than just silly!

How-how many times must I say.

What if you’re not okay?

Oh, think you’re so gritty!

And someday you’ll have to pay.

Next thing I know is you’re at the bay

Taking a stolen swing of whiskey!

How-how many times must I say.

Mari, you can truly be such a ray,

But this is no grand victory.

And someday you’ll have to pay.

Therefore, since you do not obey

(And now I am getting dizzy),

You will go nowhere, you will stay.

And someday you’ll have to pay.

Angry and trembling, the girl run up sobbing into her room and couldn’t help but narrate to her closest dear companion, in ragged breaths-

The last word that was heard

And I was then lured

Into the depths of something like curd

Finally, there was only dirt.

Later when I lift my head up all I see

Is the lightless sheet over me.

And I sink though I’ve already hit rock bottom,

But it yet drags me down, it’s all rotten.

And yet it drags me down, till I am forgotten.

It drags me down till I am forgotten.

Awhile later, Marigold lay on her bed, staring at the wall. For perhaps the first time, she thought of almost nothing. Except for some reason... images of lemon colored pansies, city taxis she had never really seen but imagined, fresh golden cheese, bright circular yolk, amber chandeliers. For a moment, I thought I could see these things swarming in her warm, longing eyes. She then heard the door creak open. Soundlessly, her mother came in and sat by the bed, smiled and began…

He with what delight says ‘hello!’,

To all things wonderous that the world encloses, soon supposes,

It’s time to no longer bellow.

Radiant sunshine, butter, rose, and all things that you find mellow,

He uses them rather well until he then gently reposes;

He with what delight says ‘hello!’.

Although… now those around do glare at the fellow.

Listen: there’s a rage growing within, still he strikes the best poses.

It’s time to no longer bellow.

Hence, at these moments, engaged is that lovely cello,

And with a silent cry beautifully composes-

He with what delight says ‘hello!’.

Sweet Marigold, enough of those journeys down the ghetto.

Remember even he must take sufficient doses.

It’s time to no more bellow.

Maybe you are neither Jack Frost nor an angel, instead Othello.

Perhaps to some you are not as bright as sunshine and roses,

Yet, always should you know that mustard… is also yellow.

It’s time to no longer bellow.

“Mustard?! Who cares about mustard? Why can’t I be proper yellow like sunflowers or corn? Like- like Marigolds!”, roared the girl.

“Because maybe sometimes the things that catch our eye the fastest are not quite the best, not everything is as beautiful as they seem. Sunflowers last for no more than six days, and corn, maybe three. Mustard- for years. And their seeds, for even longer. Mustard is also yellow, Mari. It is also yellow.”