A Rose In Misery

Ages past since she had dreams

All died when she came to this forsaken land

With a pitiful bundle of belongings

Crushing under a heavier weight betrayal

Traded for cattle and grain

Sold into servitude

To this ruins overgrown with weed

Bulges of crossless graves

Of sages long dead.


For they found the mean swine a wife

He had battered the first

Scared the second,

And now the third

Just a frightened little frame

A picture of helplessness

A rose plucked before her time

Bruising its petals


He gave her a basket and hoe

Pointed to the farm and market

And there she knew

Her sons will be herders of sheep

And her daughters will share her fate


She now floats through life

With an impassive seasonal bedfellow

A damp hearth born of leaking roofs

Mud walls letting sunbeams in

Bead necklaces the only colour in her life


Hands wrinkled but strong

Wakes each day to her exhausted garden

Where she tenderly weeds her livelihood

And bitterly buries her broken dreams


PS; pencil art illustration by Kizito Arts


4 thoughts on “A Rose In Misery

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