Thursday, April 28, 2016

Pity the young girls from the dirt roads

Pity them for they do not understand enough
those who live on the dirt roads, half paced
with the droppings of animals, the whiff of sand
and this urge for smelling sulfur

sometimes when I walk normal streets I wonder
about them, young girls whose feet march
roads others say under privileged
because of other men's feet

when it rains there will be
a flood at the edge of the village
where they walk to recive
more water, how sad, this is a conversation I hear

spurting from your mouth as if blessing me
as of cursing me, for a small town with the roads
remaining of nothing but nature
unfolding nature

Pity the young women from the dirt roads
who walk the  wrong street, walk one that's paved
with dust only and the desires of other men
dreaming of desert horses and belly dancers

Pity the young women from the dirt roads that are paved
with nothing but soot and sand that creeps between your toes
to the side of your heart repetitively to let you know
never to pity a woman from the desert.

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