WOMEN OF THE MARKET
I have been sitting here, watching these two women,
One is breastfeeding her little one,
The other is cutting vegetables,
She wants to prepare supper for her husband who is coming home soon,
They are called women of the market,
They sell groceries at the market.
I have been sitting here, watching these women of the market,
My heart is filled with joy,
The breastfeeding woman has large breasts,
The milk from her breasts has made her blouse wet,
She is like a tree growing near a river,
Its leaves do not wither,
She has many children who delight her heart,
And bring gladness to her soul,
Her face shines bright and her joints and hips are well oiled,
Her skin glow with abundance of fertility,
Her legs charm passersby,
Her house is abuzz with activities,
Her husband is respected among men.
I have been sitting her,watching these women of the market,
My heart is filled with sorrow,
The woman cutting vegetable is like a cactus tree growing in a desert,
Her sharp pointed nipples prick like thorns of acacia tree,
They are withered and do not produce milk,
Her heart is filled with cry,
Her joints and hips crack a tree which is dry,
Her legs do not charm men,
Her womb is barren,
She tastes bitter and her lips are like sand,
They never get wet with saliva,
Her house is lonely and her husband is mocked among men.
I have been sitting here,watching these women of the market,
And I have realized that the divide between the wicked and righteous,
The divide between the rich and the poor,
The learned and the uneducated,
Kings and slaves,
Can not match the divide between a fruitful womb and a barren womb.
I sob.
by Ordinary Mind
