Pressing
heavy on the shoulders bold
in
anger, bitterness and regret born
She
marches on!
Her
whole life hanging on a hold
imprisoned
in a wooden sieve
She
marches on!
Weighed
down by a baby at the back
lungs
exhaling, sweat oozing up
She
marches on!
Weariness
disfigured her face
not
knowing how far a hand on a third leg will go
when
the whole body it holds
She
marches on!
While
at her side the falling sun rays
a
lip opens to close
in
a lost speech
in
unfound thoughts.
Yet
her screams follow her on
her
feet painted by the noon dust
to
send her hand into her mouth
finding
hope in her beating heart
Oh
help her march on!
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