Tender Labor
Soft hands find no toys to play
Soiled fingers draw doll’s face crude
On tarnished soil dry,
Lean body hasn’t felt the mellow touch
Of the first rains of summer
Tiny life is drenched by the dripping drops of tear,
Pensive eyes see no colors in the fallen sky
Looks at flowing sweat on mother’s pale face
Draining her age before time.
She a girl of tender thirteen
Doesn’t know when the sun rises
For when her mother goes out for work
Sleep still clasping her cold eyes
She holds her frail hands
The only security she knows
The only hope she clutches,
Doesn’t know what childhood is
As she labors with her mother
Washing and cleaning in households
Days in and days out
For in her mind broken by hard times
The dreams of a child have already died.
April 2, 2018.
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