A Woman’s Lot…

A Woman’s Lot
At long last,
This day to end.
Her pillow her friend
her heart to watch rend.
Tears anew…
Silent sobs shudder
Shudders bend to spent sighs
Tis sheer desolation.
The morn brings more strife
A lengthy walk to work,
A punishing schedule,
An evening of chores,
A night swallowed yet again.
by shuddering sighs.
Nay, there is no softness here.
No peace in the midst of the African night
No blissful sleep in the arms of Morpheus
Not in the slums of Dharavi
Nor the stone slabs of Dhobi Ghat.
Respite lives not in her fate
For as sureth as dawn breaks
Her daily grind lies in wait.
Tis a harsh life
This daily strife.
Twill be but a pleasure
Life’s final measure
When hardened feet
Her Maker to meet.