Sunday, January 27, 2013


January 26, 2013

(For A Maid)

It was an experiment of a well
where you get water, pail by pail or drop by drop
Rain fills that well, dug, layers down
So she and I would scoop our pails,
carry them meters’ going back house.
The pail was not heavy for us, for
we were both young and arduous.
We filled drums, as saving water for our home
It was easy, yet her hands mottled red
while she gripped the sleek handle,
carrying on a task to please me -
my eyes swelled of her devotion…
I said to myself, “My hands must never be tired.
They must carry more than her hands.”
Perhaps, seven times her courage -
I am sorry, for what they did.
I am sorry, for what I did not do.
Thank you for getting water for us.

/rosalinda flores martniez

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