Women’s issues become boiled down.
Not immune to us versus them mentality.
I saw her today, for the first time,
a broom on her left and her child on her right,
and on her shoulders… a ton of burdens,
she glanced at me as I passed,
but her hands kept that mechanical sweep
brushing away the dust off the road.
The child, her child, a girl,
she was so beautiful,
yet with every brush of the broom, her face turned a lighter brown,
and her mother, her dear mother kept
dragging her wandering feet away from the road side
protecting her like a mother should,
even if all she had were her hands and a mother’s love;
Still she swept.
Lying here thinking…
whilst the world is turning,
innocents in torment,
and the monks are still burning.
Peace was banished,
from this mystical land,
torture and imprisonment,
bedfellows, hand in hand.
The other continent –
starvation the plague,
Aids, poverty and illness,
apparent every day.
Conflict and oppression,
rule many a sacred Isle,
punished by their birth rite,
how can I rest or smile?
For I am one who’s lucky,
with freedoms of a Queen,
a life of capitalist luxury,
to me – feels quite obscene.
© Suffering 2012
By Alexandra Carr-Malcolm