Dust swarms like bees
Sun meets Earth
A scorching manifest of heat
She walks
Her sari in her hand;
A water pot upon her head
She breathes
In
Out
A child at her heels
Survival of the fittest
A lame man begs
Women pass her
Tired and weak
Poverty blankets the land
Tents in slums
The dying, abused, forgotten
No hope to be found
She presses on in vibrant colors
And dim prospects
Her soul thirsts for more
Her child hungry and in need
Of a future filled with something
Besides grief
She presses on.
Will you share hope with her?
If not you, who?
