Anklets

The sound of cheerful anklets

Jingles through the dry breeze

But what lies behind these jingles

Can't be felt the same way.

The cuts that penetrate so deeply

Those bruises which run through

Too deep in the heart

That no one tries to spy.

Her feet scarred by rocks

And prickly thorns.

Yet she holds and balances pots

Heavy on her head and heart.

Walking through the barren land

With no water in sight

The feet pause and resume

Their search for souls and lives.

Yet the anklets jingle so pleasantly

Like nothing's wrong

We all know though quietly

They scream their hearts out!