she walks with a humble grace,
shoulders hunched, weary with toil
beads of sweat stream down her soft cheeks
as she makes her way to the shade
seeking rest after a hard day's labor
no one looks at her when she walks.
a lowly insect in a sea of human
wary of being crushed.
Same business every day.
awakening to the smell of gas and putridity -
perfect start to a perfect day
She wanders through the crowded streets-
"A dime, sir, just to buy some bread.
not for myself but for my hungry son. See,
he is but a year old and needs to be nourished
else he'll die. please sir, a dime to spare?"
Cruel eyes stare from behind a rigid face, and
the answer? always the same.
"I don't have any money. Leave me alone."
She sits in a corner, begins to weep.
An hour, two even three transpire,
while the woman drowns in her ocean of sorrows.
No friends, no kin, nothing to her name
born from misery unto wretched misery
Where is the humanity for the humane?