Dream Of A Woman

She stopped counting her bones long ago,

They are too many, too visible beneath her thinning skin,

Slowly consumed under a concrete sky of dark soot.

At night when a male weight is dumped on her spine,

 She tills earnest masculinity into her womanhood.

Her fond memories smile under the sunshine,

Recalling the little girl with green mangoes in her lap,

And the woman nourishes her ancient freedom.

Often they see the setting sun together,

She and herself sitting side by side on the mossy roof.

The Eastern horizon fades dimmer and silent,

But she knows the sun will rise again.

Beneath those clasped eyelids laden with despair,

The bleak ground yields a newer dream of a bright morrow.