Lady against the hearth

This poem that holds a sad but true reality is dedicated to the group of mothers in some of the remotes of my country.


LADY AGAINST THE HEARTH

WITH THOSE BROWS SOMBER
SHE LIT THE FIRE ;RED ON TIMBER
ABOVE IT SINGS THE UGLY KETTLE
AND ASIDE HER CRIES HER STARVED DAUGHTER

THE RIPPLE OF YELLOW FLAME
BLAZES NOISILY IN HER MUTE SOUL
THE FLICKER OF IRONY
WEEPS SILENTLY IN HER ABUSED ROLE
DAYS PASS JUST BEHOLDING
HER SON BUT SHE AIN'T PAID
NIGHT TAGS HER ON SALE
WHEN SHE'S WANTED ON HER MAN'S BED

EVERYDAY IS FAMINE
IN HER PUNY RAVAGED SHELTER
BECAUSE, BOTTLE IS DEARER 
TO THE MAN SHE TIED KNOT TO
THE GUTTLE OF HER CHILDREN
IN A PIECE OF BREAD MELTS HER
HER HEART CAN'T BEAR THE TORMENT
WOEFUL, BUT SHE'S GOT TO

FROZEN SOUL THAT RESIDES
IN A BODY AGAINST FIRE
PONDERS AT THE SITUATION
ASKS HER WHERE IT DWELLS
WEEPS ALOUD IN DREARY SILENCE
BURNT ON DESIRE'S PYRE
MOURNS OVER THE GRIEVANCE,
RED RAGED TILL IT SWELLS

BREAKS A DAWN ANOTHER
WITH THOSE BROWS SOMBER
SHE LIT THE FIRE; RED ON TIMBER
ABOVE IT SINGS THE SAME UGLY KETTLE
AND ASIDE HER CRIES HER STARVED DAUGHTER..