So the other day we got to walk throught the colonia (neighborhood) right next to us, Colonia Granjas. I saw this lady walking with her two children and it inspired this poem I guess. Or maybe it´s the people I will see. Dunno. Here goes…I love constructive criticism if you´re willing to give it.
LA POBRE (The Poor Woman)
Toddler in hand, infant in arm,
La pobre trudges down the rutted road and navigates the mudcracks.
She displays a certain grace not expected from her kind
As her callused feet prance between hardened mud and fly-infested puddles.
With every inch that the sun climbs higher into the cloudless sky
Her eyes squint tighter
And the heat of the day adds another pound to her war-weary shoulders.
She must be about my age,
Yet the wrinkled corners of her face tell me she has lived two of my lives.
Something in those ebony eyes
Longs to tell me en español
That there´s something behind her timid demeanor,
Beyond the surface of her skin de color café,
Que llora y que quiere un salvador.
I don´t know how to help her…
I guess it´s a good thing I didn´t come alone.
